


A little (corruption) Cooperation

by QueerCannibal



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Alucard looks like a minor sometimes, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual, Divergent Timelines, Language, M/M, Minor Violence, No graphic rape/Non-con, Oral Sex, Past-trauma, Religious Conflict, Religious Content, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sex, Slow Burn, Vampires, questionable moral actions, slight AU, talk of past rape/non-con, talk of torture (non-graphic), vampire, working towards a relationship (sorta)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:50:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7611538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerCannibal/pseuds/QueerCannibal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Anderson had known for a long time that he would never see the gates of heaven, but there can be no more doubt in his mind when he finds himself indebted to the head of the Hellsing orginization. Can Anderson learn to live with this new life? Can Anderson learn to live with his new work associate, Alucard? Not without violence he's sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A little ( _corruption_ ) cooperation

A Hellsing FanFiction

By BondSlave

Requested by agatha10

 

            Alexander Anderson, ex-Soldier of God, ex-Father of the Holy Catholic Church, sat upon the overly soft bed, elbows on his knees, pondering if it were worth praying for forgiveness of his sins. He examined the veins atop his hands before turning them over to count the little lines that ran across his calloused palms. Even being a regenerator, there were still some imperfections that couldn’t be healed but with time. Dropping his hands and straightening his spine with a feint groan, he decided that there was no point in praying; no God would listen to him now. The ex-priest rose from the bed and began gathering up his clothes, pulling his pants on over his boxers. He wondered where his belt had ended up as he pulled his shirt over his shoulders. As he buttoned up the shirt, it took Alexander a considerable amount of self control not to look at himself in the motel room mirror, which was nailed crookedly to the wall just inside the door.

            “I’m losing weight,” he grumbled to himself, running his thumbs along the hem of his dark gray pants, which sank a little lower on his hips than he was comfortable with. “Where is that blasted belt?” He looked, bleary-eyed, about the darkened motel room, and spotted the silver of his buckle sticking out from under the bed. “Ah, there it is,” he sighed, crossing back to the bed and leaning down to yank it out from the deeper shadows. He looped the thick leather around his middle and buckled it with ease.

            His hard blue gaze was then drawn to the figure lying soundless in the bed.

            Laying among the ratty sheets was a long, slender figure. The pallor of their skin turned the off-white of the sheets to an unattractive gray. Black hair spilled across the pillows like ink—a rather striking contrast to the figure’s pale face.

            Alexander gazed cooly at the sleeping figure, studying the face, the strong thick brows, the long slender nose, the full lips that were colored the faintest pink. It was the face of a peacefully sleeping man—a beautiful man—, but Alexander knew the truth, knew the hellfire that glowed behind those motionless lids. No, this was no innocent man in his mid-thirties. This was a demon of the pit, and now the owner of Alexander’s own soul.

            “Fucking hell,” he sighed under his breath, turning his back on the figure on the bed, not knowing what he wanted to do, or where he wanted to go.

\---

Chapter One

            Everything was darkness and pain—something that only mildly surprised him. After all, Monsters aren’t permitted into God’s good Heaven. Even so, Alexander Anderson had expected oblivion, not this. Not Hell. Though he wouldn’t pretend that part of him hadn’t known that he would never be permitted to look upon the face of God.

            The darkness was occasionally broken by quick flashes of light, like lightning streaking through his brain. With each flash, something inside of him seemed to short-circuit and remind him of his pain, of how he couldn’t move his limbs, how all of his muscles seemed locked and hard. He wasn’t sure if the flashing was a blessing or a curse; it never illuminated anything. He could never see anything, just solid darkness, and occasional red and yellow streaks of light.

            When he became more aware of his physical body, he attempted to open his eyes, but there was still nothing but darkness and the streaks of light. Whenever his brain wasn’t short-circuited with pain, he examined them more closely, thinking for a moment that they looked like the small veins that ran along the inside of eyelids. Once he would realize he was thinking too clearly, the pain would start again. Then he would only be aware of how long and hard he was screaming. Part of him wondered if any other souls could hear him, or if this were his own personal Hell. Perhaps God was kind enough to give him that—his own section of hellish eternity in which to suffer alone.

            Occasionally, he would lose all thought and feeling, but that would only make coming back to himself all the more painful. He was certain that he was dying—or rather, dying a second time. No one’s soul could take such torment. Perhaps that is why it was so quiet besides his own agonized screams: all the past souls who had been cast into the Lake of Fire had ceased to exist. The eternal torment had been too much for them to take. He hoped that he too would cease to exist soon, that his soul too would shatter, if only to end the torment that he felt. He screamed and wept, praying to a God he knew could not hear him, would not save him, had turned away from him. He was a Monster, regardless of who he served—God or the Devil—, and Monsters belonged in the fiery pit.

\---

            “Is this a good idea, sir?”

            “Where else is he to go? Who else would take in a monster such as him? Whether the idea is good or not, I cannot in good faith leave him behind. If for no other reason, I don’t want a third party picking him up and doing God knows what with him. The last thing we need is another fiasco like this one, with thousands of regenerators running around.”

            “Yes, sir.”

\---

            The first thing he became aware of was the ache that lingered all over his body, and the throbbing headache that had settled squarely between his eyes. The second thing he became aware of was the light sinking in through his eyelids, realizing that not everything was blackness as it had been for an eternity before. He tried not to think too hard, or let any questions form in his mind, fearful that the pain would turn to agony as it always did whenever he thought too clearly for too long.

            After a short while that could have easily been an eternity, and after the aches subsided slightly, Alexander cracked open his eyes.

            “Ah, good Lord,” he grumbled, voice gravely and weak. His eyes slammed shut again to try and block out the sunlight that was blinding him. After a moment, struggling with the burning in his eyes, he tried again, and this time he managed to leave his eyes cracked open. For a while, there was nothing but white and golden light that stung his eyes, but, as he blinked and was able to focus better, he was able to discern the sheer blue curtains that hung partially open on a tall floor-to-ceiling window. He blinked a few more times and realized that there were two other windows with the curtains drawn closed altogether.

            “Where in the—”

            “Ah, I see that you’re awake.”

            Alexander started slightly at the voice, and jerked his head towards the end of the bed. His neck popped rather loudly several times, making him grit his teeth.

            Standing coyly at the end of his bed was the familiar yet not familiar form of Seras Victoria, Hellsing’s bitch vampire. The blonde gazed at him with keen crimson eyes, her pink lips drawn into a sweet smile that didn’t fool him for a moment. There was nothing innocent about her anymore; she was a whore of the Devil now. “How are you feeling?” she asked, tilting her head back a little to look down her nose at him.

            She looked very much the way he remembered her looking the last time he had seen her: small with wide hips, thick thighs, a slender middle, and buxom breasts. She was dressed in the same red uniform that oddly suited this new her better than the yellow would have. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts, perking them up in an almost obscene manner. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was on purpose or not.

            “What’s going on?”

            “You don’t know?” She sounded genuinely surprised. Her arms fell to her sides as she spoke again. “Oh, well, I’m not sure how much I should tell you.” She pressed a finger to the corner of her mouth thoughtfully. “I was only told to watch you. Just in case you went berserk when you woke up.”

            He frowned at her. “Well, what the bloody hell can you tell me, you—”

            “Oh, there’s a lot I can tell you. It is Tuesday the 24th—exactly two months after the vampire siege of London—, and you are in one of the guest rooms at Hellsing Headquarters,” Seras said with a knowing smile, and a bit of cheek. She swiveled where she stood, her hands clasping behind her back as she eyed him, no doubt enjoying his obvious confusion on some level or another.

            Alexander struggled with the information she’d given him, working it over and over again in his mind until his temples throbbed and he had to stop. He frowned at her and tilted his head slightly, which only made the pounding harsher.

            “How is this possible?” he asked, voice sounding a little more strained than he would have liked. He wished that his bloody head would split in two already and just get it over with.

            “Hmm, we’re not entirely sure,” Seras said, scratching at a spot on her chin before shrugging her shoulders. “Sir Integra was only somewhat surprised however, so…” Another shrug and she turned towards the door, her wide hips swaying as she walked, the heels of her boots making not a sound. “I have to inform Sir Integra that you’re awake,” she said quietly, as though she were talking more to herself than to him.

            When she reached the doorway, she turned to look back at him. “Don’t leave this room. I’ll know if you do, and I won’t be happy,” she warned, her crimson gaze fixed unwavering on him.

            He glared back at her. “Oh, yeah? And what would you do if I didn’t listen to you, hellspawn?”

            “You forget, Priest.” Her tone remained the same—distant, uncaring—, but the title “priest” seemed to slither over her tongue and force its way past her teeth like a death rattle, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end unpleasantly. “I am not held under the same enchantments that held my master. The only thing that would prevent me from bringing you lasting harm is my loyalty to Sir Integra, but don’t test me.” She shot him a pleasantly innocent smile and left the room, the door slamming behind her like the death-toll.

\---

            While the vampire Seras was gone, Alexander sat up from the bed slowly. His head pounded and spun as he did, and, once he’d managed to sit upright, a shooting pain sparked over his heart. It shot lightning bolt paths along his torso, causing him to grip at his chest and spit out half-formed curses between clenched teeth.

            Alexander finally looked down at himself. He was naked from his navel up, and there was a thorny scar that stretched out from just over his heart, spreading its tendrils like a disease. His expression softened as memories returned. The bloody battle against The No Life King, stabbing himself with the last precious religious artifact, and then nothing. White-hot holy rage, and then oblivion, quickly followed by what he was still convinced was hell.

            “Well, this certainly isn’t what you expected, is it?” he mumbled to himself, carefully tracing the star-shaped scar that covered his left pectoral. He’d gone from anger and disgust to feeling not much at all. It was a startling change, but, as he looked at the scar, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. He wasn’t certain _what_ he was feeling. He’d fully embraced his role, his place as one of God’s monsters. He’d accepted that it was a choice that would land him in the fiery pit, but this was a surprise. He hadn’t expected to live.

            “It isn’t what any of us expected.”

            Looking up from the scar on his chest, fingers falling back to the bedspread, he eyed Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing as she stood framed in the doorway. She looked thinner than Alexander remembered, the harsh lines of her face a little softer, more relaxed, and her eye… He wondered how she’d lost that.

            “By all logic, and certainly by any stroke of luck or of God, you should be dead—dead and gone, no longer a bother to anyone. But here you are, alive and whole,” she seethed quietly, drawing in a long drag from her cigar and slowly exhaling the heady smoke into the room.

            Seras was peeking over her right shoulder at him, that innocent, not-so-innocent look back on her heart-shaped face.

            “Quite a feat even for a regenerator, if you ask me, considering you’d crumbled into ash,” Integra teased, a smile tugging at her lips. It brought back something of the fire and defiance Alexander remembered her for.

            “Why am I here?” he asked, not bothering to cover himself. What did he care if some protestant pig took a gander at him while he sat in bed half-naked? Of course, he supposed he was no better off than she was now.

            Integra puffed on the end of her cigar thoughtfully as she stepped into the room and crossed to the foot of his bed. Seras still hovered just behind her. Alexander supposed that the little vampire was no doubt there to intervene if he decided to get violent.

            “That’s a good question,” Integra said, her teasing tone lingering, “why _are_ you here? Why are any of us here? Is it luck? A blessing? A curse?” She grinned at him, her blue eye watching him carefully as her teeth sunk ever so slightly into the butt of her cigar. “I suppose that there’s really no good answer to such a vague—”

            “Goddammit, woman! _Why_ am I here?!” he snapped, ignoring the red gleam that had momentarily flared in the vampire bitch’s eyes as she loomed ever closer to her master’s master protectively.

            The smile fell slightly from Integra’s face, and she reached up to remove the cigar from her teeth. “Because I’m nice,” she said, exhaling the cigar smoke through her nose. The clouds of putrid smoke curled around her like those of some dragon or devil.

            “What?”

            “You are here…because I’m nice,” Integra said clearly. “It wasn’t as though we went looking for you, or looking for away to bring you back,” she mocked, handing Seras her cigar over her shoulder. Seras took it and put it out in the palm of her gloved hand, the material and skin beneath burning slightly before regenerating seconds later. “Honestly, I was glad to be rid of you. But when cleanup began in London, our people— the few who survived the slaughter—found you. You were barely anything, a small lump of ash and cells, regenerating slowly—pulsating with a life that we weren’t entirely sure was sentient. I knew that the Vatican wasn’t looking for you, and I certainly doubt they would have welcomed you back into their folds with open arms, so I showed mercy. You are here, alive and safe, because I’m nice, Alexander of Anderson.”

            “So, what now? What do you intend to do to me? I’m not like that dog of yours. I won’t listen to you, won’t roll over and lick your boots all because you snap your pretty little fingers,” he spat.

            “I’m not going to do anything with you. You are my guest, and while you continue to recover from your ordeal, you shall remain my guest,” she replied simply before leaning forward, pressing the ball of her shoe against the end of the bed and leaning over her knee. “However, if you test my patience, cause harm to my staff, or cause too much trouble, I may stop being nice. So behave yourself, Anderson.” Her voice darkened as she glared at him with her one good eye.

            She stepped back and straightened up she pulled another cigar from her pocket, which Seras immediately lit. “Otherwise, you are perfectly welcome to roam about the house and grounds. All I ask is you don’t disturb the workers. The last thing I need is for you to set back reconstruction.” She puffed on her cigar, then turned and headed back for the door. “Oh, and remember—Seras will be looking in on you every once in a while, and she’ll report any bad behavior to me,” Integra called back over her shoulder as she disappeared around the edge of the door frame.

            “So, what, I’m just supposed to stay here quietly, and break bread with you heathens?” he snarled, glaring at Seras, who had remained behind, rolling the chewed butt of the dead cigar between her fingers idly.

            “You don’t have to break bread with any of us,” she said. “Sir Integra isn’t being all that unreasonable. She has no reason to keep you here. She could have disposed of you, or enchanted you. Locked you up so no one would ever find you again.” There was a dark gleam in her crimson eyes, as though she were imagining all of the horrible things that the head of the Hellsing house could have done to him. “But she didn’t. She’s opened her home to you because, like she said, she’s nice. The rules aren’t that bad. You’re free to roam around the house and the grounds, free to eat when you want, where you want, free to use the library and gym.” She crushed the cigar between her fingers, bits of ash falling to the floor. “She didn’t have to permit that. Be grateful, Alexander Anderson, and you may soon learn that that ‘protestant whore’ is actually a very good, very nice human being.” Turning sharply on her heel, she silently marched towards the door, coming to a pause just shy of its threshold. “You’re a monster Alexander Anderson. You belong with fellow monsters. And there is no place safer than the home of the last Monster Tamer.” And, without crossing the threshold, she sank through the floor in a mass of red and black void.

            With a sigh, Alexander felt himself deflate slightly. He hadn’t even realized how tense he’d been while the two women were in the room with him. He fell back against the pillows, arm thrown across his eyes to block out the sun as he puzzled over his situation.

            “Fucking hell.”

\---

            The following few days found Alexander spending most of his time in his “room”, either sleeping through fever dreams and night terrors or sitting up watching the moon cross the night sky. He never left the room, and ignored the vampire Seras whenever she came to physically check in on him. He never heard or saw anyone else in the mansion, though he did see small groups of workers on the grounds cleaning up the remnants of the battle that had taken place just a few months ago.

            He marveled at how quickly it seemed that the Hellsing grounds were getting cleaned up, and wondered if the government’s entire budget was going towards this rather than to helping the rest of London. He knew he should give a damn about the scum who remained alive in London, but a part of him couldn’t help but think that their government should be helping them. They’d survived a literal hell on earth; the scum should get some sort of reward for that.

            Three times a day, usually without notice, plates of food would appear on the bedside table for him to eat, a large pitcher of water or juice along with it. At first, he’d ignored the food and drink, but then he recalled the dark look on the vampire’s face while she thought of all the horrid things that her master’s master could have done to him, which only forced him to think of the terrible things that could have been done to him. The most vivid of the horrible fantasies was being locked away with no food and water, forever starving and thirsting, but unable to die due to his regeneration. He didn’t doubt that the Hellsing bitch could have done it either. If she could hold the Vampire King hostage, he wouldn’t stand a chance. After a few days, it was enough to make him start eating and drinking what was offered.

            A little over a week later, he finally rummaged through the room and found a small, plain selection of clothes that would fit him. He dressed in simple black sweatpants and a short-sleeved black T-shirt, and decided it was time to explore the Hellsing mansion. He’d never actually been inside the building before, and was rather amazed at how quickly the restoration of the building was going.

            He came across a few still heavily damaged areas, ignoring the “warning” signs that would keep any other person away. He also met a few work crews, whom he talked with while they were on their lunch breaks. They were all relatively inoffensive people, ranging from the ages of twenty-two to fourty-five.

            He ended up spending one particular lunch hour with a young twenty-four-year-old Catholic boy who’d been hired for the job all the way from Wales. He was bright-eyed and hopeful, eager for the work, and glad to talk to someone else of the same faith. Unlike Anderson, who was perhaps considerably more conservative, the boy was open-minded and didn’t mind being around people of other faiths and religions; however, he was missing his church back home and hadn’t felt quite as at home in any of the Catholic churches near or around London—the ones that were still standing, at any rate.

            “It was great talking to you, Anderson,” the boy said as he packed up his lunch bag in preparation to get back to work. He was a good three heads shorter than Anderson, with a mess of ginger hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose. “It’s been a real treat.”

            “You too, lad,” Anderson said with a small smile as the boy turned and headed back down the hall.

            Anderson himself turned and walked in the opposite direction, intending to return to his room. During his explorations over the last few days, he’d managed not to run into any of the Hellsing employees, including Integra or Seras. Though he was sure that Seras was never very far away. Then, as if the mere thought of how fortunate he’d been thus far had been in the vampire’s mind as well, Seras appeared in front of him as he rounded the corner into another hall.

            “Good afternoon, Father,” she greeted coyly, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed beneath her bosom. “Have you been enjoying your wandering?”

            “I’ve enjoyed the chance to stretch my legs. And don’t call me Father,” he grumbled as he passed her, not giving her a second glance as he made his way back towards his room.

            He nearly jumped when he spotted her walking beside him, her hands clasped behind her back, her red gaze fixed on him rather than where she was going. It unnerved him how quiet the undead could be sometimes. He’d grown almost comfortable around the undead due to the fact that Alucard had always made a ruckus; he’d stepped purposefully, making noise as he went, shooting his bloody guns in the wrong hands so as to make the hunt more challenging. Anderson probably would have taken it as an insult if he hadn’t had such fun playing with the fucking monster. This little Draculina wasn’t her Master, however—she was an undead all to herself, a beast he was not yet familiar with.

            “Why shouldn’t I call you Father?” she asked. “Isn’t that what you are, Priest?” She eyed his chest. “We could get you a cross, you know. I’m sure Sir Integra wouldn’t say no.”

            “It isn’t the bloody cross, alright?” he snapped, glaring sidelong at her.

            Her bottom lip pouted out slightly. It was a look that probably should have looked innocent. Petulant, but innocent. On her, though, it did not.

            “Then what is it? Why shouldn’t I call you Father, or Priest? That’s what you are, isn’t it? Everyone calls me Police Girl.”

            “But you’re not a Police Girl anymore, are ya?” he spat, and she halted, falling behind him several paces before he stopped to look back at her. “You’re not a Police Girl anymore. You’re a bitch—the bitch of the Devil himself,” he hissed.

            “So, what are you?” she asked, not sounding insulted at all, though her tone had gone rather flat, her crimson gaze going dead.

            He blinked, not responding.

            “What are you, Alexander Anderson? Are you the church’s Father, a Catholic Priest, God’s monster? What are you, Anderson?” she asked, her voice growing a little harsher.

            “I… I don’t know anymore,” he muttered, turning his back on her and continuing on down the hall. In another lifetime, he never would have turned his back on a vampire—at least, not a full vampire—, but now he found that he didn’t care. If she chose to attack him, she could. It wouldn’t matter; he’d just regenerate anyway.

            Once back in his room, Alexander sat on the edge of his bed, only a little surprised to find Seras standing in the doorway watching him. She still had the slightly dead-eyed look about her. Perhaps what he’d said had bothered her more than she cared to admit.

            “I can tell you what you are, Anderson.”

            “Can you now?” He sighed, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking tiredly at her. He’d need to sleep again soon; the throbbing in his head was beginning to come back.

            She nodded, leaning her shoulder against the door frame. “You’re lost.”

            “What?”

            “Lost. Like a little lamb that’s been separated from the flock.” She smiled at him; it wasn’t an unkind smile. “But there’s no shepherd coming to find you. There’ll be no returning to the flock. You’re on your own.”

            He snorted, looking away from her. “That’s comforting.”

            “Find comfort in it, Anderson. We’re all a little lost here. At least you are among kindred souls.” She pushed off of the door frame and turned away, walking silently down the hall.

            Alexander wished that she were wrong. He hated admitting it, even to himself, but he did feel lost. For as long as he could remember, he’d been the black sheep; but, even so, still a member of a flock. Now…

            He pressed his thumb and index finger against his eyes, perhaps a little harder than necessary. “Find comfort in kindred souls, eh?” he mumbled, sighing as he let his hand drop back to his knee. “That’s easy to say when you _have_ no soul.”

            Lying back against the neatly made bed, he gazed up at the ceiling. He could hear the workmen’s tools echoing through the long hallways and corridors of the house, the distant warble of voices from the grounds. There was indeed life here, but for how much longer? How long would it take for those men to complete the restoration and clean up? How long did he have until he was left alone in this home of the soulless?

\---

            “Do you ever sleep?” Alexander asked, standing in the doorway of Integra’s office. The young woman was seated behind her desk, stacks of papers on either side of her, a cigar smoking on the edge of her silver ashtray.

            “Who sleeps anymore?” she replied with a smile as she looked up at him. “Though you are certainly doing your fair share. Are you feeling better?”

            He hesitated a moment before shrugging his shoulders and walking into her office. “My body has mended. I’m not sure my brain has, though.”

            “Oh?” She looked back down at her work, reading over lists and numbers that meant nothing to him upside down. “Are you having headaches, then? Seras mentioned the fits and fever dreams.”

            “She what?” He felt momentarily violated, but he supposed anyone merely watching him sleep could have surmised as much. It didn’t necessarily mean the vampire had been rooting around his head. He exhaled before speaking again. “The dreams have stopped for the most part, but the headaches still persist, annoying bastards,” he grumbled.

            Integra chuckled quietly to herself, looking back up at him as she set the paperwork aside. “I don’t know much about your physiology,” she admitted. “And our doctors were killed in London. Can you take pain medication?” She said it conversationally, as if she were asking about an allergy. “I could have some picked up for you.”

            “Why are you doing this?”

            “I thought we’d already covered that?”

            “Yeah, yeah, ‘cause you’re nice. I don’t buy that.” He crossed his arms. =

            Integra sat back in her seat, perfectly comfortable in her office, even with the enemy standing before her, with only an oak desk between them. “That’s a pity,” she said, picking up her cigar and taking a long drag from it. “But I suppose, if I were in your position, I wouldn’t trust me either. But I’ll be frank, Anderson. I just want you to be comfortable.”

            “Why should I—?”

            “Believe what you will, but, remember: I could have had you tortured and dissected if I wanted, but I didn’t. I’m no longer your enemy, Alexander. The Vatican probably would’ve disposed of you, had they found you. We have the same enemies now. Now you can accept that or not, the choice is yours.”

            “Nothing works.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “Meds. My cells regenerate too quickly,” he said simply. “I have a high pain tolerance; the headaches are nothing more than an annoyance.”

            “Well, even an annoyance can become maddening if not addressed.”

            “Speaking of annoyance.” He shifted his weight slightly and cocked his head to one side as he looked down at her. “I’ve been here a little over a week and haven’t seen head or tail of your lapdog. What’s happened to him?” he asked, genuinely wondering where the vampire had gotten to. He’d expected Alucard to harass him endlessly, and found his lack of appearances a little jarring.

            There was a subtle shift in the expression upon Integra’s face, and her gaze seemed to lose focus momentarily before honing back on him. “He’s…gone.”

            “You mean, he’s dead?”

            “No, he’s just…gone,” Integra said quietly. She crushed her cigar out in the silver ashtray and pushed back from her desk. She stood, turning her back to him and looking out of her office windows at the grounds. “If you need anything, Anderson, ask Seras. She’ll be able to get it for you.”

            Despite the fact that he would’ve liked a more detailed answer than just, “He’s gone,” Alexander felt that to push and ask right then would get him nowhere. He turned and headed for the hallway, not knowing exactly where he was going to—whether back to his room or somewhere else.

            Something inside of him twinged at the thought of the vampire being gone; it didn’t seem quite right—like waking up in a dream but not knowing that you were in a dream. Just living your life and somehow knowing that something was off. Was this a dream? No, it wasn’t a dream. If Integra said that Alucard was gone, he was gone. It actually made quite a bit of sense now that he really stopped to think about it. Why else would the vampire Seras have been hovering around Integra so much?

            He came to a stop beside a large painted portrait of the Queen, younger than she was now, dressed in the royal best. He admired the painting, not knowing that behind it lay a secret passageway to the Hellsing basement—not knowing that far beneath his feet, a lonely, long black box lay with a bloody piece of cobble atop it.

            “I hate to say it…but I miss you, you bloody fucking bastard,” Anderson grumbled. He turned from the painting and moved on down the hallway, destination unknown.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

           

            It was one of those rare evenings when Anderson fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillows. It was also one of the few nights that he wasn’t plagued with nightmares that forced him awake in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat and longing to slice something through with one of his bayonets. However, this evening wasn’t meant to be a peaceful one at the Hellsing manor.

            The sound of gunfire was more than enough to stir Alexander from his dreamless sleep, jolting him upright with his heart pounding in his ears and adrenaline coursing through his veins. The repeated gunfire had him up and out of bed and tearing through the empty corridors at break-neck speeds. It wasn’t so much curiosity, fear, or any sort of gratitude or loyalty to Integra Hellsing that had him skidding to a halt outside her bedroom door, but rather his natural inclination towards war and bloodshed; it was just something in his DNA.

            At the same moment, Seras appeared with her Harkonnen draped across a shoulder. He ducked as the small vampire swung her canon forward and kicked down the large oak door with more force than was probably necessary. He was right on her heels as he slipped into the room after her. Then they both froze, struck momentarily dumb at the scene that was laid out before them.

            Integra was sitting up in her bed, gun out, looking both enraged and amused as a bloody figure slumped against the opposite wall, giggling quietly to himself.

            “Master!”

            The happy squeal of the Draculina as she lowered her canon brought Alexander back to himself. He felt something shift inside of him at the sight of the familiar bloodied figure—something he couldn’t quite identify.

            “You’re late,” Integra said, swinging her legs to the side of her bed and standing, her naked feet making soft little sounds as she crossed to the prone figure beneath the window. “What took you so long?” There was a fondness in her eyes that made Alexander uncomfortable. Integra may have been the Master of the devil, but that glimmer in her eyes made him wonder if the devil had taken some mastery over part of her himself.

            “Well, Master, it took me some time to kill all of those souls inside of me.” Alucard chuckled, lips stretched in a toothy grin as he looked up at her, obsessive devotion alight in his own crimson gaze. “But that didn’t stop me. I killed and killed, until only one remained.”

            The look on the vampire’s face churned Alexander’s stomach for reasons that he couldn’t quite pin down; was it the devotion that bothered him, or was it the obsessive hungry look? He hated seeing it, didn’t want to look at it, wanted more than anything to return to his room and back to a dreamless slumber—not that he thought he’d be getting any peaceful sleep what with the King of Monsters back in the mansion.

            “Well, you’re back now, Count,” Integra said fondly, stepping over to the prone figure and extending a bleeding finger towards him, not a hint of fear or disgust in her eyes. Alexander blinked, having momentarily lost track of what was going on around him, and watched as the monster leaned forward, that fond look still on his pale face.

            “Countess,” he purred, extending his tongue as he opened his mouth. Alexander recoiled slightly when those crimson eyes flickered in his direction for a brief second before the drop of blood hit his tongue and his full attention returned to Integra.

            Anderson turned to leave; he wasn’t going to stand around and watch this disgusting, corrupt, evil act and fawn over the two like the blonde vampire whore was. He may have mumbled something as he turned to walk away—something along the lines of going back to bed, he wasn’t entirely sure. He also wasn’t all that tired anymore, but as he walked, he found himself once again back in his designated room, closing the door and locking it out of habit before crossing towards the bed to try and fall back to sleep.

            But sleep didn’t come so quickly this time. In fact, Anderson wasn’t sure that it would come at all. He’d been uncomfortable knowing that Seras was roaming around loose, but now with Alucard back…

            The bloodied, slumped appearance of the vampire kept creeping towards the forefront of his mind’s eye, but with certain details more enhanced than others. The way his inky dark black hair fell into his bloodless face, the gentle curve of his pale lips as he giggled with glee, the way his limbs spread out around him in his crumpled state… Anderson quickly pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind, and tried to focus more on the disgusting way that Integra and the vampire looked at each other, and how filthy it made Anderson feel, as though merely being in the same room with them would in some way taint him.

            The scene continued to play over and over in his mind as the moon slowly crept across the sky. He wasn’t even fully aware of the time passing him by. He wanted to blame the sleeplessness wholly on the fact that Alucard was loose in the house, but a part of him knew that that was a lie. He wanted to banish the thoughts of the way the vampire had looked when he’d first seen him—from the hellish gleam in his crimson eyes as they met his for the briefest of seconds. That was easier said than done. He wanted more than anything to believe that the disgust he felt at the way the vampire gazed up at Integra, and in turn the way she gazed down at him, was because it was evil—disgusting—and because he was a moral man, but he knew that that was a lie too. He knew that his disgust didn’t come from any place of moral integrity, but he didn’t look too deeply at the truth, knowing that he wouldn’t like what he would see.

            “Can’t sleep?” The cool, mocking voice that seemed to almost whisper in his ear made Alexander tense, but he tried not to let it show. He refused to jump, to look around, to seek out the owner of that voice. For all he knew, the vampire wasn’t even in the room, but merely watching him with his dark magic.

            “Thinking of about a hundred good ways to kill you,” was his gruff reply. This was easier, comfortable—this combatative nature between them—, certainly easier than dealing with his fucked-up thoughts.

            The chuckle that came in response made his skin crawl, but he didn’t even bat an eye. He refused to show weakness before this demon of the pit. “Only back ten minutes and you’re already thinking of ways to mutilate me? How… _romantic_.” Another chuckle, but this one set Anderson’s blood boiling. How dare the bastard mock him as though he knew things even Anderson refused to admit to his own mortal soul?

            “It’s the only thing you make me think about, monster,” he managed through gritted teeth, rather proud of himself for controlling the urge to yell. He wanted to jump up and rip away the bed sheets, kick the bed from its designated spot, tear the room apart, and force the monster to show himself, but he knew that it was pointless.

            “Well, I wouldn’t say the only thing, though it certainly is frequently on your mind. _I_ am frequently on your mind. I’m flattered.”

            “You know nothing of my mind, monster.”

            “True.”

            Anderson felt something cool ghost across the shell of his ear, and this time he couldn’t help the flinch. The chuckle that followed was like a blow to his pride.

            “But how I’d just _love_ to get a closer look, to peel back the layers of your mind and see what dark secrets you dare not even admit to your God, Anderson. It would be so… _illuminating_.”

            “Do you have a point?” Anderson snapped.

            “No. I am merely curious as to why you are still here. My master told me everything that I have missed since my supposed death, including everything about your stay here. I can understand staying while you were recovering, but according to Seras, you’re fully recovered.”

            Anderson felt something ghost against his shoulder, but when he glanced down, he saw nothing.

            “I find myself curious—curious as to why you are still here.”

            “It’s none of you goddamned business.”

            “Oh, but it is. You see, you represent a real threat towards my Master, and that _is_ my business.” The pressure against Anderson’s shoulder increased and he almost winced—almost. He was mostly convinced that the feeling was an illusion.

            “Leave me alone, monster. I’m not here to answer your questions, or quench your curiosity,” he snapped, rolling purposely onto his side, getting more comfortable in preparation for sleep.

            “Perhaps not, but I don’t doubt that you’ll be quenching something before too long.” And suddenly the chill and odd hair-raising sensations faded from the room, leaving Alexander convinced that he was now truly alone.

            “Fucking Christ,” he sighed. He pressed his face into the pillow, and willed himself to fall asleep.

\---

            Over the days following Alucard’s return, Anderson found himself torn between wanting to continue his exploration of the mansion and grounds and wanting to remain cloistered away in his room. He felt less at ease with the Vampire King around, even though they hadn’t yet come face-to-face. He’d made a silent promise to himself not to try and summon his blades or blessed pages; Seras had been relatively inoffensive over the course of his stay, and he hadn’t felt very threatened, but he felt threatened now.

            But Anderson also couldn’t bring himself to remain in his room either, or let the vampire bitch wait on him, bringing him food and water. That’s all he needed, to show cowardice. He was no coward.

            Finally, after a few days of indecisiveness, Anderson decided that he wouldn’t let the vampire intimidate him; he’d been welcomed into this house, foolish though that might have been, and he wasn’t going to shrink back and cower away just because the big bat monster was back in all his undead glory. Surely he hadn’t done anything to warrant attack or harassment, and he didn’t think that Integra would be low enough to sick her pet vampire on him when he’d been so kind and polite to follow all of her stupid little rules.

           

            It was an overcast afternoon that found Anderson sitting outside on the grounds. He’d begun to feel too crowded in the mansion, and decided a bit of fresh air would do him some good—even if it was English air, with horrible English weather. And, even though Anderson was rather fond of sunny days and sunshine, he found that the overcast sky wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

            The spot where he’d decided to relax was just on the other side of a grassy hill, where a slightly cracked stone and iron bench rested. Anderson could easily imagine a lady of the home and perhaps some children sitting out on this old little bench to read and get some sunshine. He didn’t know much about Abraham Van Helsing, or even Arthur Hellsing, but it wasn’t too difficult to imagine both men taking care to tend to their respective wives needs.

            While he sat on the bench in the cool of the afternoon, he wondered how the children back at the orphanage in Rome were doing. Now that his nightmares had slowed, he’d started dreaming vague dreams about the children, and he found that he missed them all quite a bit.

            Anderson had always been fond of children. They were innocent (for the most part), and had the most chance for growing up to lead healthy and holy lives. Of course, that didn’t always happen; sometimes circumstances didn’t permit it. It always pained him to some extent when he saw a child go rotten; it felt as if God were laughing at him.

            “So this is where I find you, Judas Priest.”

            So engrossed in his own melancholy thoughts, Anderson couldn’t quite restrain a startled twitch at the familiar voice, and angrily craned his neck around to spot the vampire who had appeared silently behind the bench.

            Though it was not the first time that he had seen the vampire out in daylight, it still puzzled him the same. He knew that Alucard was far more powerful than most of the vampires he’d faced, if not the most powerful, but still seeing one out in daylight felt almost wrong. Not that a vampire’s entire existence didn’t feel wrong.

            “What do you want, monster?” he sighed, turning his back on the figure and letting his gaze settle on a distant green point several hundred feet away. He felt a chill pass through him as the red-clad figure rounded the bench to face him, but he didn’t react.

            “My, my, you’re certainly in a poor mood.” The vampire chuckled. “Pity, usually your poor moods are more fun.”

            Anderson could tell that the vampire was trying to irritate him, get under his skin. He was doing a pretty good job.

            “What do you want?” he growled a little more forcefully, not even looking up at the figure. He didn’t want to look at the vampire, didn’t want to give him the time of day. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to come off as nervous or concerned, but rather aloof, comfortable. It was a lie.

            “I want to know why you are here,” was the simple reply, his mocking tone gone as, much to Anderson’s surprise, the vampire sat down on the bench beside him. He couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Alucard was seated beside him, leaning back comfortably, hands folded upon his lap, crimson gaze hidden behind his glasses. He looked relaxed, almost calm, but a less than innocent smile still tugged at the corners of his mouth.

            “Integra, of course, told me everything about your…circumstances.” He waved his hand idly. “But I want to know why you are still here. My master has wondered the same, but she won’t ask you. Doesn’t want to start a fight, I suppose. I think she’s tired of fighting—for the moment at least.”

            “Why does it matter?” Anderson asked, hoping he didn’t sound as defensive as he felt.

            Alucard turned to gaze directly at him, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He wished he could at least see the vampire’s hellish gaze through the orange lenses of his glasses.

            “It matters because the last time I didn’t question something—the last time I let something small and seemingly insignificant go unchecked—part of our family betrayed us.”

            Anderson would have laughed at the use of the word “family”, knowing that he spoke of the late Walter C. Dornez, but the tone in the vampire’s voice kept him quiet.

            “Integra may not ask, she may let you roam around free, but _I’m_ asking, and I demand an answer.”

            “And what if I don’t give you one, huh?” Anderson growled back. “What are you going to do? Break me in two?” He could have sworn that he heard the vampire’s teeth click together, but he didn’t dare break eye contact with those reflective lenses.

            “Unfortunately, my master has insisted that I not harm you. But that doesn’t mean I can’t fuck with you. I will make your stay here a living _hell,_ Anderson, and I will enjoy it.”

            Anderson didn’t doubt that, and, though it was against his better judgment, he decided to be honest.

            “Did it ever occur to you, monster, that I’m tired of the fighting too?” he asked, finally breaking eye contact and sitting back against the bench comfortably. “My body might have regenerated, but I’m still tired.”

            “You’re tired?”

            “Yes.”

            “That’s why you’re here?”

            “That’s why I’m still here, yes,” Anderson said with a slight nod. “That’s why I’m here, and that’s why I haven’t lopped off your master’s head or impaled that pretty little bitch.” Anderson stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “The Hellsing brat offered me a place to stay and recover, and I am going to take her up on that _kind_ offer.”

            Alucard rose from the bench, frowning down at Anderson, who carefully kept his expression calm and his body language relaxed. He knew that he’d thrown the vampire when he’d admitted to the truth—that he was merely taking Integra up on her offer of a safe place to recover from the Battle of London.

            “Be careful that you don’t overstay your welcome, Priest,” Alucard muttered, before turning and walking back around the bench.

            Anderson didn’t have to look to know that he’d vanished.

\---

            “Are you offering?” Integra asked, cocking a brow as she leaned her elbows on her desk and chewed idly on the end of her smoking cigar.

            Anderson stood on the other side of the cluttered desk, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his dark pants. He could feel Seras grinning at him from her place across the room, and the leer Integra was shooting up at him made him want to break her neck.

            “Temporary. As repayment.”

            “My offer was free, Anderson.”

            “I don’t want or need your charity,” he snapped, glaring down at the blonde behind the desk.

            Integra chuckled and leaned back in her chair, removing her cigar from between her teeth and snuffing it out in her silver ashtray. “Very well. I’ll be sure to think of some way for you to repay my…generosity,” she said with a slight nod and a dismissive wave of her hand as she went back to her work.

            Anderson felt his jaw tense at her tone, but turned and exited the office regardless, ignoring Seras’s grin as he went.

\---

            Anderson lay stretched out across his bed, hands clasped behind his head as he thought over the decisions he was making, the choices that were still to make. He felt as though there was something gnawing at his insides—probably traitor’s guilt.

            Integra Hellsing could make him do anything to repay her for her generosity, and he could imagine several unpleasant things quite easily. But he couldn’t, in good conscious, take what she’d given him for granted. He’d been sure that he would spend an eternity in the fiery pit of hell, but, somehow, Integra Hellsing had rescued him from that fate, at least temporarily. That wasn’t something that he could simply overlook.

            _Oh, Alexander, what are you getting yourself into? Haven’t you lost enough already? Throwing your lot in with her will lead to nothing but trouble_ , the small voice he usually ignored whispered at the back of his head.

            The voice almost made him laugh. Everything he did lead him to trouble. He was a Judas Priest—or he used to be. His entire existence was throwing himself headlong into trouble and coming out bloody on the other side. This would probably be no different.

            _You’ll pay back your debts, no matter what that brat has you do,_ he replied to himself, silencing the voice at the back of his mind easily.

            But once he’d finished the rather pathetic wrestling match with, what he supposed was, his gut instinct or conscience or something else he rarely listened to, other, more unwelcome thoughts began to surface to his mind’s eye. Most of them involved the newly resurrected—Could he really be considered resurrected if he was still part of the undead?—vampire Alucard.

            He knew that he’d often obsessed over Alucard in the past: wanting to meet him, wanting to fight him, wanting to be the one who wiped him from existence. But these new thoughts were different. They weren’t colored with bloodlust (at least not the sort he was used to), and they didn’t involve fighting; at least, not in the usual way. Most of this unwelcome thoughts involved Alucard’s presence.

            Anderson found himself noticing how long and lean the vampire was, even with his bulky red coat on. Or the way that those ridiculous orange glasses perched on his long slender nose. Or the way his inky black hair framed his face. He hated all of it. Hated the vampire, hated noticing these things about the vampire, hated how often he caught himself thinking about the vampire. He was certain that he was beginning to lose his mind, and, if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up causing a fight that he truly had no energy for.

\---

            It took Integra nearly two weeks to call on Anderson for his repayment and, when she did, he regretted insisting upon it.

            It was a dark, stormy evening at the Hellsing mansion when Seras appeared in Anderson’s room. He’d gotten rather used to her just popping up, but was grateful that she usually used the door instead of appearing at the foot of his bed as Alucard had done once or twice.

            “Sir Integra would like to speak to you,” she said with a grin, her voice dripping with barely-contained amusement.

            He sat up and set a book he’d taken from the Hellsing library aside, then frowned at her. The slight churning in his stomach told him that he probably wasn’t going to like this; anything that brought this undead whore so much amusement probably wasn’t going to be good for his morale, health, or both.

            “I’ll be right there.”

            He didn’t take his time as he would have liked to when making his way towards Integra’s office. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that he wasn’t keen on learning what form his repayment would take.

            Once he’d arrived, the churning in his stomach increased tenfold; Integra was not alone. Seated upon her desk, her short red skirt riding up a bit obscenely, sat Seras, looking like the cat who had eaten the canary, and Alucard was seated by the fireplace swirling a wineglass of blood lazily. So, his repayment was to take place in front of an audience—why did he feel so surprised?

            “Anderson, I have a job for you to do,” Integra said, weaving her fingers together and resting her pointed chin atop her knuckles comfortably. The amused smile that pulled at the corners of her lips made him uncomfortable; she was getting nearly as much enjoyment out of this that the vampire bitch was. Alucard, surprisingly, looked rather uninterested, or at least far less amused than the two women.

            “A job?”

            “Yes. I thought that the best way for you to repay me for my kindness and generosity would be for you to do a little job for me—something that I would find otherwise difficult to do.” She smiled pleasantly at him. “You see, the Hellsing Organization is still recovering from the battle against the vampire siege of London. We have very little manpower at the moment, and even if we did, an operation such as this would be very difficult. But having you here… Well, you’re the natural choice for the job.”

            “What job?” he snapped, feeling slightly cowed and wishing she’d swing the axe already.

            “I need you to investigate a number of disappearances at a Catholic Boarding School in Scotland.”

            Anderson blinked, staring down at the blonde woman who gazed up at him, mirth twinkling in her single blue eye.

            “What?”

            “It should be simple enough. We’ll have you transferred there as a teaching priest. You have no records that are accessible to the public, so falsifying some won’t be all that difficult,” she said, tilting her head to the side slightly as she looked up at him. Seras’s grin spread to show her teeth as Integra continued speaking. “While you are there, you will investigate these disappearances. We need to know if it is the work of a vampire or someone else. Either way, it should do some good, and your debt will be repaid. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

            Anderson shook his head. “Oh no. No, no, no. I said from the beginning that I’m not one of your dogs. I’m not just going to—”

            “It isn’t as though you’ll really be working for me and my organization,” she interrupted. “This is simply a favor that you can do for me—make my life just a little bit easier. And, don’t worry, you don’t have to _kill_ the vampire if there is one. That’s what Alucard is for, after all.” She turned her head to look over at the vampire in red.

            Anderson’s attention turned sharply towards Alucard. “You’re sending him? To a Catholic boarding school? Ha! That’s a laugh. You must be joking!” He glared at Integra. “Even the uneducated would know that he doesn’t belong there.”

            “As he is, that would be true,” Integra relented, turning her attention back towards Anderson and meeting his hardened gaze. “But that is the good thing about Alucard—if ordered, and if the situation calls for it, he can fit in anywhere.” She leaned back and turned in her chair to face the vampire sipping at the wine glass, folding her hands in her lap. “Alucard, would you show our guest your incognito attire for this mission? Perhaps it will put him more at ease.”

            Alucard’s lips quirked sharply upward as he leaned forward and set his glass of blood down on a small side table.

            “Of course, my master,” he purred, sounding far too pleased to do it.

            Anderson felt his stomach knot as the vampire rose to his feet. He couldn’t imagine that the vampire would pull off a convincing priest, and couldn’t believe that Integra would be stupid enough to try. But, as the vampire removed his glasses and hat and set them down on the chair where he’d been sitting, something told him that that was not what the vampire was going to go for.

            Alucard’s shape seemed to grow momentarily hazy, and hard to focus on. Anderson had to concentrate hard to keep his gaze from sliding off of the red clad figure. As he forced himself to focus, he saw that the red began to fade from the vampire’s form, and was replaced with black and gray. Once the vampire came back into focus, Anderson felt his mouth go dry and his jaw clench.

            No longer was a monster in the guise of a six-foot-four man standing before him, but rather the lean narrow figure of a lanky sixteen or seventeen-year-old boy. He was dressed in a simple white button-up shirt, a gray vest with an embroidered school logo over the left breast, and straight-legged black slacks. His shaggy black hair was a little shorter than it had been before, and falling into his face a little more. His hands were wrapped in black fingerless gloves, showing off perfectly rounded fingernails.

            “I like your old school’s uniform better,” the vampire mumbled, twisting on the spot slightly to peer down at himself.

            “Which one?” Integra asked with a smirk.

            “Both. The boys didn’t have to wear this ridiculous vest, and the girls skirts’ were quite flattering.”

            “Only because you shortened yours,” Integra teased, turning in her chair slightly so she could see Anderson better. “So, you see, Alucard will be more help than hindrance.”

            Anderson felt his shoulders tremble, and before he could stop it a chuckle forced its way up his throat and passed his teeth. “You’ve got to be fucking joking,” he laughed. “You seriously expect me to agree to this?”

            “This is my price for repayment,” Integra repeated simply, unfazed by his chortling.

            “Master!” Seras scooted to the end of the desk and leaned over to take in her master’s new appearance. “You look fantastic!”

            “Well, thank you, I’m quite proud of it,” Alucard said with a grin. His usually deep voice was now an octave lower, but the smile that split his face was the same smile that Anderson was used to.

            “This is absolutely ludicrous!” Anderson snapped. “You expect us to work together?”

            “Yes. Alucard will follow his orders, and shouldn’t cause you any undue trouble. He knows what is expected of him. All I expect of you is your help in getting us into that school. Or do you think that that will be too hard, Anderson?”

            He clenched his fists and ground his teeth, knowing that she was mocking him. It wasn’t a difficult mission. In fact, it would be a walk in the park compared to what he was used to, but the principle of the thing…

            “Fine. I’ll do it,” he managed to force out, his blunt nails digging into the palm of his hand and his teeth chewing at the inside of his cheek. It felt so wrong, as though he were signing himself over to the devil. Who would have thought that the devil would have been a twenty-three-year-old Englishwoman.

            “Good.” Integra grinned up at him, pulling another cigar from her silver case and snipping off the end. Anderson could see the vampire that he knew was Alucard but no longer quite looked like Alucard leering at him. “You’ll leave on Friday.”

            He nodded and turned to leave, crossing the room as fast as he could without actually running.

            “And, Anderson…”

            He paused just shy of the door, not bothering to look back over his shoulder at her.

            “Do try and behave yourself while you’re there.”

            Her teasing tone was enough to set his blood on fire, but he just nodded his head in understanding and made his exit, tasting blood in his mouth.

 

            “I think that went over rather well,” Integra mused as she puffed on her cigar and swayed idly in her chair. “I expected him to blow up or something.” She grinned at Seras, who started to giggle heartily from her perch on the edge of the desk.

            “Oh, there is still time for that, my master,” Alucard purred, his red eyes glinting brightly in the light of the fire place.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

            Anderson had fully intended to refuse to go along with this sacrilegious errand for the Hellsing Organization—truly, he had. But when the day arrived, he found himself standing out in the driveway, arms crossed, with small bag of clothes and “costumes” resting on the ground at his feet. He’d even organized all of his falsified papers into a small, cracked brown wallet that he’d stuck in the front pocket of his black slacks. Part of him still couldn’t believe that he was doing this, but when the car pulled up to take him to the airport, he didn’t even hesitate to slide into the back seat, his bag set neatly between his feet on the floorboards. 

            The driver was surprisingly chatty and friendly, and, as such, Anderson couldn’t quite keep up his grumpy demeanor over the course of the fifteen-minute drive. He assumed that the man didn’t really know what was going on. He knew he was new to the Hellsing Organization, having only seen his face once or twice before in passing. He wondered how long this poor fool would last. Would he just end up dead because he was told to drive someone somewhere?

            Anderson sighed softly, frowning out at the passing scenery. He didn’t understand the Hellsing Organization, or how it operated; that had never been part of his job.

            _“That isn’t how we do things.”_

            Anderson felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the soft voice that seemed to whisper against the shell of his ear. A cold breath sent a shiver down his spine, and he looked towards the front where the driver was fiddling with the radio, happily oblivious to what was going on in the backseat of the car _._

 _“Do you really think we just throw our people to the wolves?”_ the voice mocked, chuckling and sending another chill along Anderson’s spine.

            “How the bloody hell should I know?” he grumbled, careful to keep his voice quiet so as not to alert the driver, who had settled on a pop station. Anderson didn’t recognize the song, but it had an energizing beat.

            _“Relax, that isn’t how we work. The men and women we send into the field are trained professionals. They know exactly what they are up against. People like this only know the bare minimum. It’s safer for them and their families that way. It is rare that men like him die due to our line of work.”_

Anderson wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or not. What did the organization do if something were to happen to their people like this? Those who didn’t know what they were getting into?

            “Where are you?” he mumbled, looking back out the window grumpily.

            _“A few cars behind you. We need to transport my coffin.”_

            “You’re taking that accursed box?”

            _“Of course.”_ There came another chuckle that made the flesh on his arms prickle. _“There is no way to know exactly how long we will be there. I can survive without the coffin for long periods of time, but I would like the option to rest in my native soil, should I so choose.”_

            “Where will you hide it? You can’t exactly put it in a dorm room.”

            _“That is none of your business, priest.”_

            “What, don’t you trust me?”

            The question was met with silence, and the hairs on the back of his neck laid back down. Whatever presence the vampire had had in the backseat seemed to have retreated back to the other vehicle. With another sigh, Anderson turned his attention back to the driver, who had happily started chatting away about his three-year-old daughter. She had just learned how to spell her favorite word: _Hippopotamus._

 ---

            When they arrived at the airport, Anderson was joined by Alucard, who was looking smug in his new disguise as a teenager. It made Anderson feel uncomfortable all over again. Alucard had no other luggage besides the large coffin, which was carefully disguised and loaded as “build-it-yourself furniture”.

            “So, what am I supposed to call you?” Anderson grumbled as he stood side-by-side with the now shorter man in the security line.

            Alucard was looking far too pleased with himself, more-so than Anderson thought he ought to. He was grinning with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark slacks, eyes covered by a dark pair of circular sunglasses. “Master Integra selected the name Adrian.”

            “Adrian?” Anderson frowned down at the shorter man, who chortled quietly.

            “My Masters always pick my names. Alucard, Alison, Adrian.” Alucard gave a slight shrug of his shoulders as they moved up the line by a few feet. “It seems that they enjoy keeping the ‘A’ in my name. My master before Integra named me Alison, for the young female form that I took. My first master named me Alucard as a means of mocking me for my fall from…” He chuckled. “…grace. Integra is perhaps less motivated by mockery and merely by convenience. Adrian is a simple enough name to remember.”

            Anderson wanted to ask about the “Alison” thing, but decided he was better off not knowing. In fact, he was most likely better off not knowing anything about the vampire—anything he didn’t already know, at any rate.

            “So, are you going by a different name, or keeping the old boring one?” Alucard teased as they approached the metal detectors.

            Anderson watched as the smaller man removed his sunglasses and shoes, setting them in the small plastic bin before passing through the detector. He knew that Alucard could have just altered the security’s perceptions; he needn’t go through all of the mundane tasks and formalities. But Anderson supposed that Integra had ordered him to do everything by the book, and draw less attention to himself that way.

            “Same old name,” Anderson replied levelly as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and set it in the plastic bin along with the cross he’d slung around his neck earlier that morning. It felt strange to be wearing a cross again, and it felt even stranger still as he watched the golden chain pool into the bin. _Same old name, same old game,_ he thought to himself as he toed off his shoes and stepped through the metal detector himself.

            After gathering up his things, and while he slipped his shoes back on, Anderson pondered his feelings about his current Hellsing assignment. He couldn’t understand why it felt like lying. Why did putting on the cross feel like such a burden? The thin golden chain seemed to rest heavily on his shoulders, the weight of the cross bumping against his chest like a taunt. Why did it feel like he was pretending?

            By all technicality, Anderson hadn’t left the Church, or been kicked out. Yes, the Vatican probably assumed him dead, but the mere fact he was alive still meant that he was part of the church.

            So why did he feel as though wearing the cross and collar of a priest to be akin to lying? He hadn’t turned on God, or the Church, or anything; but even when Seras had called him Father or Priest it had made his stomach turn and his skin feel suffocatingly tight. What was he if he was not a Priest, a messenger of God?

            “Well, that’s boring,” Alucard sighed as they made their way towards their gate, getting into the coach line. He had laced his fingers behind his head and stood leaned slightly back as he apparently surveyed the people in front of them.

            Anderson wondered what the vampire saw when he saw ordinary people. Did he just see potential food that he could not have? Was it like a starving man standing before a feast and knowing that he was not invited to partake? Or did he see something else? Anderson had seen a flash of the man that Alucard had once been, seen the tears, the sorrow, the rage that the vampire felt during their last battle.

            When he looked at ordinary people, did Alucard see what he was missing? Did he see what he had given up? Did he look upon humans with envy?

            “Now boarding.”

            Anderson was jerked out of his thoughts at the sound of the chipper female voice over the intercom.

            “Come along. Father,” Alucard said with a grin, his arms falling back to his sides as he glanced over his shoulder at Anderson. “You wouldn’t want to miss picking your seat now, would you?”

            They moved slowly through the boarding terminal and onto the plane, Anderson feeling like part of a herd of cattle as they went.

            Once they were on the plane and were approaching their row, Alucard looked back at him. “It’s been a while since I’ve ridden in coach. Which seat would you like—window or aisle?”

            “I’m surprised you can fly at all,” Anderson grumbled as he carefully shoved his carry-on into the storage bin above their aisle. “I’ll take the window seat.”

            “Very well.” Alucard stepped aside just long enough to permit Anderson to slide into their row and settle himself down beside the window. Alucard then joined him, sitting in the middle seat and looking quite comfortable as he folded his hands in his lap.

            “I was under the impression that your kind didn’t fly well,” Anderson muttered as they were joined in their row by a chubby but attractive twenty-something. She was looking cheerful, but nervous.

            “Typically, we can’t, not without…certain assurances. However, I am perfectly comfortable traveling in this way. It certainly beats taking the train or going by boat,” Alucard said. He then turned his attention towards the young woman and pushed his sunglasses up into his hair. “Is this your first time flying?”

            “I-Is it that obvious?” she stammered, smiling out of nerves.

            Alucard chuckled. “You do look a little nervous.”

            “Yeah, it’s my first time. I’m usually a train person.”

            “There’s no need to worry,” Alucard assured, offering her a pleasant smile that made Anderson blink in surprise; he’d never seen a more comfortable and conversational expression on the vampire’s face before. He wondered how it would look on his real face, not this de-aged version. “Flying is one of the safest ways to travel.”

            “Do you fly often?” the woman asked, buckling her seatbelt before the flight staff even boarded the plane. “You seem kind of young to travel so often by yourself.”

            “I fly quite a bit actually, but I rarely travel alone,” Alucard said leaning back in his seat and waving a dismissive hand. “I usually travel with my sister.” No doubt he was referring to Seras, Anderson figured as he pulled one of the magazines from the pocket beneath his drink tray. “She’s probably around your age.”

            “Oh? Well, how come you’re not traveling with her now?”

            “I’m going off to school,” Alucard said comfortably, “but, still, I’m not traveling alone.” He shifted in his seat and looked at Anderson, who could see the shit-eating grin the vampire was shooting him from the corner of his eyes. “This is Father Anderson,” Alucard introduced, forcing Anderson to look up from the magazine and offer the woman a bright smile.

            “Oh, hello, Father.” The woman leaned across Alucard to offer him a hand, which Anderson accepted and shook. “I’m Matilda.”

            “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Anderson replied as the woman leaned back into her own seat. He had an uncomfortable feeling that Alucard had taken the opportunity to sniff at the woman as she’d leaned across him.

            “So you’re going to a Catholic school? Or is the Father here an actual relative?” she asked, sounding only slightly nervous about the question.

            “No relation,” Anderson assured pleasantly, putting up a hand as he let the magazine rest against his knee.

            “The Father is starting at the school I’m attending, so we’re traveling there together. What will you be teaching again, Father?” Alucard asked, glancing sidelong at Anderson.

            He knew what he was doing—he had to have known. He knew that Anderson didn’t want to talk, didn’t like being called Father, hated the entire situation, and was trying his best to make him uncomfortable. Anderson vowed he’d get the bastard back for this.

            “History.”

            “Oh, that was my best subject in school! I didn’t go to a Catholic school mind you, just a public school.” She folded her hands and fiddled her thumbs slightly. “Will you be teaching religious history, or just history? I’m not exactly sure how any of that works.”

            “Religious History,” Anderson replied.

            “Oh, that’s so interesting. I would have loved to have known historically when religious events happened, but public schools just don’t teach that way…”

            The flight from England to Scotland wasn’t a long one, but Anderson felt that it would take them an eternity. Whenever he’d remotely back out of the conversation, Alucard would find some way to drag him back in. They spent the entire flight chatting with Matilda, who seemed rather grateful for the distraction of conversation during her first flight. Anderson supposed it was better to talk with the woman rather than let Alucard monopolize all of her attention. She seemed like a nice girl; there was no reason to let Alucard get even remotely close to her.

            At one point during the trip, Anderson had feigned a need to go to the bathroom, only so that when he came back he could ask Alucard to take the window seat because he was feeling sick. It might have been a lie, but it was the easiest way to put himself between the vampire and the girl. Matilda didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and, though Alucard continued to chat with the girl, Anderson was sure he’d seen the vampire shoot him a dirty look once or twice.

\---

            Once they had arrived at the airport and gathered up their things, the pair went their separate ways. Anderson figured that Alucard was off to store his coffin somewhere that Integra had procured for him, and would no doubt make an appearance at the school at a later time. Anderson didn’t mind the quiet drive to the school, glad to be rid of the vampire for a short period of time.

            When he did arrive, he had a meeting with the dean, and was introduced to a couple of the other teachers. He felt strange talking to other men and women of the cloth, feeling as though he were an imposter. He supposed he was something of an imposter.

            After being given the keys to his rooms and his classroom, Anderson didn’t linger around too long with the other staff members. He decided it would be best to retire for the evening and start preparing for his classes that would be starting that coming Monday.

 

            Anderson’s rooms were simple and small (nothing he wasn’t accustomed to), but clean and comfortable-looking. The carpet was a dark wine color, with a sofa in the center of the room opposite the door facing a small box television set. (He was a little surprised by that, but wouldn’t complain.) In a small alcove to the left of the sofa was a small full-sized bed and single bedside table. In an alcove to the right of the sofa was the kitchenette, with a small stove, sink, and mini-fridge. He supposed a lot of the teachers probably ate in the cafeteria, but also enjoyed having the options to store and cook their own food if they wished. The only other room, which was located down a very short, narrow hallway, was the bathroom, which housed a tall, narrow shower, small sink, and toilet. It wasn’t all that bad, but Anderson knew that he would be quite comfortable there until Alucard discovered if the disappearances at the school were caused by a vampire or not.

            Anderson had wanted to ask the dean about the missing students, but felt that doing so upon just arriving at the school would have been pushing it. Perhaps he’d find a time to ask a few of the other teachers—keep his tone curious so that they didn’t suspect that he was only there because students were disappearing.

\---

            Settling in took Anderson a surprisingly short period of time, and, though he spent part of his evening going over his class schedule and lessons (which had been provided for him by Integra), the later part of the evening found Anderson with not much to do at all. He watched some news, but nothing really caught his attention. He then decided that he could just turn in early for the night. But he hadn’t been down for more than ten minutes when the temperature shifted in the room and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, announcing the arrival of who he prayed was Alucard, and not some unknown vampire he’d have to try and kill with his bare hands. He really hated not having his weapons.

            “Going to bed so early?”

            Anderson rolled onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows. He felt the end of the bed dip slightly; Alucard, in the guise of Adrian, was perched on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, and lips quirked up into a grin. Anderson glared at him and was highly tempted to shove him off the end of the bed, but he doubted that the vampire would let him.

            “Yes, I am,” he growled. “What are you even doing in here?”

            Alucard turned his attention from Anderson and studied his nails, flicking at them slightly as he did so. “Letting you know that I’m here. I already checked into the dorms, and now I’m here to retire.”

            “Wait, retire? You’re not sleeping in here!” Anderson snapped.

            “Well, of course I am. I may have checked into the dorms, but Integra ordered me to keep an eye on you. The last thing we need is for you to fuck up this mission,” Alucard snapped back, turning his heated crimson eyes back onto Anderson, who felt his urge to kick the vampire growing.

            “This was not part of the deal! If you’ve checked into the dorm, why not just sleep in the dorm, huh? Aren’t you assigned to a room?”

            “Of course I am.”

            “Wouldn’t your roommate miss you?”

            “I don’t have a roommate,” Alucard said, his grin returning and turning dangerous. “But I could go stay in the dorm room, if you wish. I mean, I certainly don’t mind being surrounded by those less-than-innocent young men.”

            “Why you—!” Anderson lashed out viciously with his leg, but barely connected with the vampire’s hip as Alucard quickly slid off the side of the bed to stand out of reach of Anderson’s leg.

            The vampire clicked his teeth at him, crossing his arms. “Honestly, there’s no need to be rude, Anderson,” he chided.

            Anderson scooted to the edge of the bed. “If I so much as hear that you’ve assaulted any of those kids…” he growled.

            “Relax; it isn’t like I can hurt them,” Alucard said, putting up his hands in surrender.

            Anderson blinked, frowning up at the vampire.

            “Integra’s orders were quite clear on that end. I am not permitted to harm a hair on any of their heads, or yours. The only time I have permission to access my abilities is if I come face to face with another vampire that has ill intent towards this school and its students.”

            “So you can’t hurt them, that doesn’t mean you can’t harm them in some way,” Anderson snapped.

            Alucard rolled his eyes. “You act as though those randy little teenagers are innocent, Anderson. Believe me, they’re not.” He took a step back as Anderson moved towards him, his hands still raised. “But if it will make you feel better, let me stay here and I won’t even looked at them twice.”

            Anderson weighed his options. If Alucard stayed with him in his rooms, at least he could keep an eye on the monster and keep him away from any of the teenagers. Of course, if Alucard stayed with him, that would mean that Anderson wouldn’t get a moment’s peace, he was sure. The possible corruption of children was the only thing that had Anderson tossing a pillow from the bed at the vampire and pointing to the sofa grumpily.

            “You sleep there. If you even get close to this bed, I will not hesitate to rip off your head with my bare hands,” he grumbled, laying back down and curling up on his side. He heard Alucard chuckle behind him, and then the sound of the sofa springs as he settled onto his makeshift bed. Anderson knew that the vampire was no doubt wide awake, it being barely nine in the evening, but he supposed there would be a considerable amount of nighttime sleeping for the vampire while he had to maintain a daytime school schedule.

            The idea of Alucard attending classes and keeping to a school schedule, let alone doing homework, was laughable to Anderson. It brought such a bizarre image to his mind that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the wall opposite his bed. The entire situation would have been funny if it wasn’t so uncomfortable. He couldn’t help but wonder if Alucard was getting some twisted pleasure out of this situation, or if he really was just following orders.

\---

            Anderson, understandably, got less sleep than he had hoped for, and was immensely grateful that he still had all of Sunday to prepare for his first day as a teacher. It wasn’t something that was entirely out of his range of talents; he had taught the children at the orphanage several different subjects. Of course, that had been because he had wanted to—this situation was entirely different, but he knew that it wasn’t something that he couldn’t handle. He would handle whatever came his way, and, once the case was over, he’d be out of debt with the Hellsing bitch, and he could move on his way.

            While Anderson showered in the dark morning gloom, he let his thoughts wander over what his life had become—what it was becoming. He hadn’t really thought too hard on what he’d do when he left the Hellsing Mansion, but now that he was doing a favor for Integra, he couldn’t help but think that he ought to start. What was he going to do? Where was he going to go? He knew for certain that he couldn’t return to the Vatican; he wasn’t even sure that he wanted to. He knew that he still wanted to rid the world of the vermin such as vampires, but he supposed that would be more a hobby and less a career.

            While he let the lukewarm water cascade over his scarred flesh, Anderson was struck with the gut twisting realization that he wasn’t all that good for anything but blood and war. For as far back as he could remember, he’d been a warrior for God—a soldier, a mercenary for the Holy Father. What was he now? Gritting his teeth and fighting back the slight wave of nausea that threatened to rise up from his stomach to his esophagus, Anderson switched off the water and stepped out into the small bathroom.

            Right now, these thoughts didn’t matter. Right now, he was Father Alexander Anderson: History Professor. That’s all he needed to know. Nothing else mattered.

            Once he was mostly dry and dressed in his simple dark gray pants and half-sleeve black shirt, he quietly padded back into the living room/kitchen/bedroom combination that made up his living quarters. As he passed behind the sofa, he noted that Alucard hadn’t reverted to his normal form when he’d retired. It occurred to Anderson that thinking that the vampire would do so was probably a little strange; nevertheless, he’d figured the vampire would only hold up the guise when there was fear of being seen by others, later dropping the guise as one would any disguise or deception.

            While Anderson pondered the vampire lying sleeping on the sofa, it struck him how different Alucard looked when at rest. Yes, this face was different from the face Anderson was accustomed to, but that wasn’t what felt different. Gone was the manic psychotic gleam in crimson hellish eyes—now laying closed and unmoving—, black lashes contrasting against pale white cheeks. Gone was the mocking grin filled with sharp, shark-like teeth, leaving the pale pink lips relaxed and only slightly parted as the vampire unconsciously mimicked sleep.

            Anderson had seen a number of vampires do this, figuring that it was part of a defense mechanism among the undead, but he wondered how often Alucard did it. Did he do it whenever he slept? Or did he feel safe enough in his own coffin that he could lie as one who was truly dead?

            The biggest difference that Anderson couldn’t escape was how peaceful Alucard appeared. Quiet, innocent, calm.

            He hated it.

            With aggravation that he couldn’t entirely explain, Anderson reached down and snatched the pillow out from under the sleeping vampire’s head, proceeding to hit the figure on the sofa forcefully in the face with it.

            “Wake up,” he ordered, a little pleased at the slight jerk in the vampire’s limbs as he came around to find the pillow pressed against his face. Anderson released the pillow and moved back over to his bed, folding his pajamas and setting them neatly in a small drawer.

            “What?” Alucard snapped, pushing himself up on his elbows and glaring over his shoulder irritably at Anderson. The ex-priest supposed he liked this look a little better, even though the irritation looked different on this younger face.

            “You can’t sleep all day.”

            “It’s Sunday. There’s nowhere for me to be, and no excuses to ask people questions,” Alucard complained, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head.

            “Yeah, but you got to get used to sleeping at night and not during the day. Might as well start now,” Anderson said, pulling out the folder with all of his notes and beginning to go over it again.

            Alucard shot him a glare before looking blankly at the dark television screen. “Fuck you, Anderson.”

* * *

Here is a BIG thank you to everyone whose read/commented/kudo'd/bookmarked this story so far, it means the world to me! Also, please give a silent cheer for my Beta reader/fiancee UnderdogAngel who puts up with my weird as shit writing. xD


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

 

            Sunday turned out to be a rather quiet affair. Besides some sulking, Alucard, in the guise of Adrian, mostly left Anderson alone. He eventually turned on the television to browse the channels; Anderson didn’t mind the noise too much, as it helped ease the tension that had filled the small quarters since the morning.

            It wasn’t until nearly sundown that the vampire caught Anderson completely off-guard. He was leaving the bathroom, fully intending to finish up his plans for his first class the following morning, when he found Alucard in his usual form, standing at the end of the sofa straightening his white gloves.

            “And what, exactly, are you doing?”

            “I’m going out,” Alucard answered, turning from Anderson and crossing to the door.

            Anderson was grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him back faster than he’d expected. “Are you fucking insane?” he growled, turning the vampire around. “You can’t just walk out of here like that!”

            “Why not?” Alucard asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “No one saw me come in, and no one would recognize me like this.” Alucard had a point, but it didn’t make Anderson feel any less unsettled.

            “It’s bad enough you’re in my room; I don’t need people seeing you leave.”

            “No one will see me,” Alucard said quietly, shoving Anderson’s hands off of him and straightening his jacket. “Besides, this day has been an utter waste; I won’t have the evening wasted, too.” Alucard turned, but paused at the door. “If there is one thing I know, it is that, besides nuns and librarians, no one likes to gossip more than drunken men in pubs. I’m going to ask around town about the disappearances.” And then he was gone, leaving Anderson standing stunned in the middle of the room.

            Anderson didn’t get much work done while Alucard was gone, his nerves and anxieties too agitated to let any of the words in any of the files sink it. He read one line over and over again, only growing more irritated with each passing minute.        

            The little clock on the bedside table seemed to mock Anderson while he attempted to work, its constant _tick, tick, tick-_ ing grating on his nerves and making his fingers twitch. After enduring ten minutes of being overly aware of the blasted clock, Anderson smashed it against the wall. He only regretted it several minutes later when he realized he’d now have trouble waking up in time for his classes the following morning.

            _Fucking vampire. It’s all his fault,_ he thought bitterly as he shut the files and shoved them all towards the end of the bed. He’d been attempting to look over the mission files that Integra had _kindly_ included along with his school supplies. Even though he technically wasn’t needed to hunt potential vampires, he wanted to know as much as he could to prepare himself if necessary.

 

            By the time Alucard returned, Anderson felt as though he were on pins and needles. He was seated on the sofa, staring blankly at some idiotic television program that he hadn’t even been paying attention to, when the temperature in the room dropped and the vampire materialized beside the television set.

            “It’s about damn time you got back!” Anderson snapped, all of his anger and irritation seeming to focus in on the vampire, who eyed him casually over his orange sunglasses.

            “It’s a beautiful night; I wasn’t going to rush back just to watch you rot your brain watching television,” Alucard snapped back. His appearance blurred and shifted until gone was the vampire Anderson knew and back was the guise of the boy he loathed. “Besides, at least I was doing something productive. What have you done all evening?” Alucard—Adrian—inquired, red eyes flicking over Anderson’s slightly crumpled appearance.

            “Never mind what I’ve been doing—what have you been doing?” Anderson barked, glaring as hard as he could at the now shorter man.

            Alucard shrugged his shoulders. “I was perusing this town’s lecherous night crowd,” he said plainly. “I’ve learned a few things too.” Alucard fished in his pants pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled and stained photograph. “Got this off of a young barmaid,” he said, holding the photograph out for Anderson to take. It showed two people, a young woman with dark hair and a teenage boy with dirty blond hair. They were posed with their arms wrapped around each other with large, happy smiles on their faces.

            Anderson cocked a brow and frowned up at the other man. “So?”

            “He was the last person to disappear from this school,” Alucard said as though it were incredibly significant.

            Anderson let the photo dangle between his knees as he leaned over slightly. “So what? What’s so informative about that?”

            Alucard rolled his eyes and huffed, his teeth sharpening slightly in irritation as he flailed his hands. “Didn’t you even _look_ at the files Integra set along?”

            Anderson felt a twinge of anger deep in his gut as the youthful figure crossed to the bed and grabbed the files. The twinge turned into a burning loathing when the same youthful figure dumped all the files on the floor in front of him.

            “Notice anything, Priest?” Alucard snapped.

            Anderson studied the files and photos that lay scattered at his feet on the floor. They were all photographs of the missing boys—some school pictures, student ID photos, and even a few of the mangled bodies left behind. But, as Anderson looked over the photographs, feeling all those eyes looking up at him, he did notice something that made this latest photograph rather significant. Holding up the stained and crumpled photo, Anderson looked back and forth between them all.

            “This goes against his M.O.,” Anderson breathed, his attention snapping up at the vampire frowning down at him.

            “Exactly. This victim was found like the others that the local authorities have been fortunate enough to find—torn to pieces—, but this young man…” Alucard snatched the photograph back from Anderson and waved it in front of his face before dropping it onto the pile of other photographs. “This young man is blond. All of the other victims were dark-haired and blue eyed. This young man is blond and green-eyed. So, what’s changed?”

            “The attack pattern is the same—brutal, animalistic even,” Anderson mused, sitting back and crossing his arms. “Perhaps this killer, vampire or human, whatever the case may be as of yet, wanted to shake things up.”

            “Or?”

            “Or…this poor fool was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

            “My thoughts exactly,” Alucard mumbled, looking down blankly at the photographs, as if he were looking through them. “There is still no real evidence that this is a vampire, but tomorrow starts the school semester. I’ll ask around a bit.”

            “Just don’t make yourself out to be too obvious, monster,” Anderson snapped, standing up from the sofa and moving towards the bed. “And clean that mess up; this isn’t a fucking barn.”

\---

            Anderson didn’t get much sleep that evening. He tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position, and struggling with whether or not he was too warm or too cold. Whenever he did manage to fall asleep for a short period of time, his dreams were wracked with stressful imagery and almost nightmare fuel. He’d wake up with his heart pounding, and a tension in his chest that made him feel as if he were about to go short of breath at any moment. And so the cycle would repeat.

            Every time Anderson would wake up, he would struggle with the urge to check the time, but then he would feel even less rested than he knew he already would. But, when he could fight the urge no longer, he would turn over and be reminded that he had smashed the clock. Eventually, he did fall into a deeper sleep, but his dreams remained stressful; though, now, for an entirely different reason.

 

            The next morning, Anderson woke when the sky was just beginning to lighten. The imagery from his dreams faded rapidly, leaving only traces of their contents behind. His heart was pounding faster than normal, but he couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or anxiety or something else entirely. Rolling onto his back slightly, and resting his arm over his eyes, he tried to recall the dream, but all he could grasp was red cloth, and pale skin. And a distinct, overly sweet scent that reminded him of red wine.

            He wondered for a moment if he’d continued having dreams about the murdered boys, and the potential vampires lurking behind every supposedly innocent face. Or maybe he’d really just been having an ordinary dream about some mystery woman. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and Anderson doubted it would be the last.

            Anderson had never really been interested in exploring his romantic and sexual feelings, nor had he ever had the opportunity. Yes, he’d had sex before—plenty of times—, but that was all it had been: sex; sex with another warm, human body.

            He didn’t know if he had interests at all. So much of his energy had gone into hunting and fighting vampires. The thrill of the hunt, of the kill, had always been enough to get his blood pumping.

            Forgoing any further attempt to remember his dream, which was now no more than a hint of rich, fruity aroma and the desire for some wine, Anderson shoved the covers aside and forced himself up and out of bed. His joints ached, and he was a little less than even-footed as he trudged his way to the bathroom for his morning shower.

            He didn’t bother to turn on the lights as he started the water, letting it get hot while he stripped off his pajamas and left them to pile onto the floor. He rubbed at his eyes blearily; he felt much less rested than he’d hoped he would. Nevertheless, he knew that he could make it through this day.

            It would be a walk in the park.

\---

            By the time Anderson was out of the shower, dried, and dressed, Alucard was already awake, though he looked rather grumpy. Anderson wondered if having to sleep at night was already getting to the vampire; if it was, he knew that he was bound to get at least some amusement out of it.

            “Well, look at you up before the dawn,” Anderson teased, crossing to the small drawer beside his bed and pulling out his priest collar. The simple strip of cloth felt heavy in his hand, and only seemed to increase in weight as he slid it into place around his neck; he felt like a dog on a leash. “You all ready for a long day of school?” he continued to mock, ignoring the heavy weight pressing down upon him as he turned to gather up his lesson plan.

            “Oh, don’t worry about me, Anderson,” Alucard replied smoothly, stretching his long slender arms above his head. “This is not my first time attending school, though it will be the first time I actually have to pretend to care about grades.” He snorted, standing up and straightening his clothes. “I’d worry more about yourself.”

            “I’ve taught kids before,” Anderson grumbled.

            “Yes, young children, and a church orphanage. This is an actual school and, Catholic or not, those little bastards will no doubt try and eat you alive.” Alucard chuckled heartily to himself. “It’s a pity I don’t have your class; I’d just _love_ to see you fuck it up.”

            “Shut the fuck up. And don’t let anyone see you leaving, you bloody blood-sucking bastard,” Anderson snapped back as he left his quarters, closing the door behind him a little harder than necessary.

 

            The entire walk to his classroom, and through the subsequent hour setting up and mentally pep-talking himself, Anderson couldn’t help but think back on the vampire he was currently sharing a room with, and of all the things he could have said. He hated how easily the vampire seemed to weasel his way under his skin, how easy it seemed to be to set his blood boiling. Anderson wondered if the vampire was actively attempting to push his buttons and get his head ripped off. He wouldn’t have been surprised, honestly; Alucard was certainly a strange monster.

            As the time ticked closer to eight o’clock, students slowly began to file in, and Anderson forced himself to shove his bad mood and nasty thoughts about the vampire to the back of his mind. He smiled and welcomed the students as they took their seats, determined to get through his time there without completely losing control.

\---

            Alucard’s day was spent in a sleepy haze of complete and total boredom. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Anderson that this wasn’t his first time attending school; it wasn’t. When Integra had been young, there had been a brief period after her father’s death that the young Hellsing had had to attend a private school; she left shortly thereafter when tutors could once again be brought in to teach her. Alucard had gone with her to her school during that time—as protection. Walter hadn’t been very pleased with that decision, and, looking back now, it wasn’t hard for Alucard to figure out why, though he didn’t like to think upon it for too long.

            Alucard sat in the back of the classroom for each subject he was forced to sit through, and did his best to be pleasant and approachable—while also attempting to not let his brain completely fall apart and ooze out his ears due to boredom. He didn’t handle boredom well, but he was under orders. Besides, he knew that he could take his bad mood out on Anderson at the end of the day; the thought of it was the only thing that kept him going.

            By the lunch period, Alucard felt a little more awake, as he could feel the flux over his abilities loosening as the noon hour approached. Not that he could use his abilities without permission from his master, but, either way, the sensation and knowledge that had he had the permission to access his powers was enough of a boost to lift his mood.

            “Adrian?”

            “Hmn?” Alucard shoved his hands in his pockets and paused on his way to the cafeteria, glancing around to see who was calling after him. It was a young boy, probably around sixteen, with a mess of curly black hair, bright green eyes, and a distinctly Eastern European look about him.

            “Hi, I’m Ethan,” the boy introduced, offering Adrian a small smile and his hand.

            Alucard accepted the hand and shook it briefly, nodding his head in greeting.

            “I just wanted to say your response to Professor Burk’s question in class was remarkable,” Ethan praised as they both turned and slowly made their way towards lunch.

            “I’m fond of historical literature,” Alucard said with a shrug.

            “But the way you spoke about it, just…” Ethan let out a long exhale. “I don’t know, it was just so…passionate.” He made a slightly awkward face and Alucard beamed at him.

            “What can I say? I’m a sucker for Anthony Doerr.” They both chuckled awkwardly and hesitated outside of the cafeteria. “Ethan, would you like to sit with me at lunch?”

            “Sure,” Ethan said with a smile. “That’d be great. You can tell me more about this fondness you have for Doerr,” the boy teased and the two stepped into line.

            Alucard wasn’t at all distressed or unhappy by the turn of events, nor was he surprised. He was rather good at making friends, and people found him…alluring. He wasn’t sure yet if it was this allure that had the boy wanting to talk to him or if it was something else, but getting to know people and being friendly would only make getting information easier.

            “That’s…not a lot of food,” Ethan commented as the two sat down at a corner table farthest from the windows. It was true; Alucard hadn’t grabbed much—merely a scoop of fruit salad and a slice of the least over-cooked piece of meat he could find.

            “I’m not a big eater,” he lied, smiling as he settled down. He was in fact a big eater, just not of food. Matter of fact, when he had the option, he didn’t eat at all. Eating real food was such a waste; his body didn’t do anything with it, so what was the point? Of course, Integra wanted him to keep up appearances, so eating food was part of the mission. And if he had to, then he had to.

            “Why am I surprised?” Ethan asked rolling his eyes as he stuck a straw into his juice box. “I mean, you’re a virtual beanpole; I guess I just assumed you’d be a big eater.”

            “I used to be,” Alucard said, skewering a piece of fruit on the end of his fork and holding it up. “But, after contracting an illness, my appetite just sort of died.” He put the fruit in his mouth, savoring the overly sweet flavor; eating food had really lost its appeal after he’d died. He could still remember the choking discomfort and pain of trying during those first few months of being a vampire, and the entire experience had turned him off to eating for good, even after he’d become powerful enough to overcome that obstacle.

            “Are you still sick?” Ethan asked, sounding concerned but surprisingly not wary. When people mentioned that they had an illness, most people became concerned with catching it.

            “Yes. It’s chronic, but under control,” Alucard assured, waving a dismissive hand.

            “Well, that’s good I guess,” Ethan said awkwardly, going at his food with a little more enthusiasm than Alucard.

            Alucard watched the other boy eat while he played with his own food and only occasionally raised a bite to pass his lips. He wondered if the other boy knew anything about the disappearances; he fit the description of the killer’s M.O. well enough to be a potential victim, he supposed.

“Ethan—”

 “Did your parents know—” Ethan blushed and cleared his throat. “Go on.”

“No, you’re fine, what?”

“Did, uh… Did your parents know about, well…” Ethan glanced around before leaning farther over the table that separated them. “Did they know about the disappearances before they sent you here?”

            Alucard was a little surprised by the other boy bringing up the thing that he was thinking about, but decided to take the opportunity and go with it.

            “I was set to come here before any of it started, and there was no time to find anywhere else to go.”

            “Same here. My parents seriously thought about it though—finding another school,” Ethan said quietly, sitting back and swirling the contents of his tray around. “It’s spooky, isn’t it? People disappearing and being murdered?”                

            “What do you know about the disappearances? I mean, surely something’s being done about it,” Alucard asked, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

            Ethan pushed aside his tray, apparently no longer hungry, and crossed his arms on top of the table. “Of course the police are trying to do something about it, but they’re also trying to keep it all hush hush—something requested by the school, no doubt. This could cause the school serious injury.” Ethan tapped his slightly dirty fingernail against the tabletop thoughtfully. “I mean, would you want to send your kid to a school where boys are being kidnapped and killed? Did you know that the last boy was taken from his dorm room?” A minuscule tremble went through the boy, and Alucard pretended not to notice.

            “I suppose not. My parents weren’t overly thrilled, but when you’re a little tapped for money…”

            “Same with my family,” Ethan nodded. “I think money’s the only reason I’m still here. Though, if this doesn’t stop soon, I doubt I’ll be back next year.”

 

            After they’d finished their meal, Alucard and Ethan made plans to eat together again the following day.

            Alucard got the feeling that Ethan was very relieved to have someone to spend time with. Over their short lunch, he’d learned a little about Ethan—the first being that his family was originally from Hungary, but had moved to Scotland when he was a baby. He’d alluded to the fact that he’d always struggled to make friends as well. Alucard had happily accepted any of this personal information, easily building up his own role to make the boy more comfortable with him.

            _“My parents were Romanian, so that makes us neighbors,”_ he’d said as the two had talked happily about their home lives before moving on to more serious matters.

 

            He slid into a seat at the back of his next class, his bag between his feet and his chin leaned into his hand. He turned his gaze to the window, thoughts far away. He’d always made friends easily—no, not friends. In fact, he was very bad at making friends. He supposed that the truth was he was very good at making people feel comfortable with him, close to him. It wasn’t friendship, really, but sometimes, every once in a while, one or two people would stick out to him. People that he genuinely enjoyed, people who could make him smile a true and simple smile just at the thought of them. He wondered if Ethan would be that person that stuck with him after this mission; he supposed it was possible if they were forced to remain for some time.

\---

            By the end of the day, Anderson felt that he needed a stiff drink. As much as he loved children of all ages, teenagers were very taxing on his nerves. He decided against going into town to a tavern or pub, and instead dragged himself back to his quarters around four o’clock in hopes of taking a short nap before getting some food.

            As he stepped into the room, he felt his already low mood crash even lower at the sight of the miniature vampire lounging on the sofa. During the day, he’d almost been able to forget that the vampire was around at all. Almost.

            “I’m surprised you’re back already,” he grumbled as he closed the door behind a little harder than he’d intended.

            Alucard didn’t bother looking up from a book he was reading, holding it above his head at an awkward and uncomfortable angle. “I could say the same to you,” he replied, letting the book rest over his face as he let his arm fall to his side. “Didn’t make any new friends who wanted to eat with you or drag you out for drinks? I know _your_ kind aren’t as innocent and pious as you pretend to be.” His voice was slightly muffled by the book covering his face, but his words weren’t missed and Anderson felt his nerves prickle.

            “It’s the first day, regardless of the kind intentions of others, I want to nap and eat. Alone.”

            “Well, that’s just too bad,” Alucard mused, sitting upright and letting the book fall to his lap. He looped his arms over the back of the sofa and eyed Anderson as he moved towards the bed, toeing off his shoes carelessly. “Because I have no intentions of going anywhere, so you’re stuck with company for dinner.”

            “What are you going to do, just watch while I cook and eat?” Anderson snorted, ripping the white collar from his shirt and tossing it carelessly on the bed. “Or have you moved a blood supply here?”

            “I can go a very long time without feeding.” Alucard sighed, letting his head hang over the back of the sofa, his fluffy hair dangling towards the floor.

            “Well that’s good, because you won’t be getting anything while you’re here,” Anderson snapped, removing his shirt and tossing that aside too. He couldn’t explain why, but he was feeling particularly violent that evening. Maybe it was just how little sleep he’d been getting, or the teenagers working on his nerves. Whatever the reason, the vampire’s lazy tones and snide comments weren’t helping anything. “And if you so much as bring in a single blood packet—”

            “I wouldn’t dream of making you uncomfortable,” Alucard hissed, lifting his head and frowning at the other man. He could sense the rising tension in the room as though it were a pungent perfume, though he couldn’t entirely pinpoint the cause. Sure, he was part of it, but there was something else writhing around beneath the other man’s skin.

            “Your entire existence makes me uncomfortable, you demon,” Anderson spat, then crossed towards the bathroom to take a shower that he hadn’t intended to take.

            Anderson didn’t really become aware of himself until he was standing under the scalding hot spray of the showerhead. He blinked several times, his vision coming in and out of focus as water ran down along his temples and forehead, falling into his eyes before dripping towards the drain in the floor. He shifted his weight slightly, blinking rapidly against the burning sting the water left behind in his eyes. He tried to focus on the water as it spun round and round before disappearing down the metal drain.

            His mood was still low, his temper was high, and the aggression was pounding through his veins violently. He could hardly put his finger on where the anger had come from. Yes, the vampire had, in the past, got his blood pumping—with the urge for battle, righteous rage, holy indignation at the monster’s mere existence. But this…this was something else. His anger wasn’t directed at the vampire; not entirely, per say.

            When he’d first entered the room and spotted the vampire, it had brought back the dream he’d forgotten from the previous night, in full detail and sharper contrast than he would have liked. And so his anger had bubbled up at himself; he loathed himself for something that he couldn’t even control.

            _It was all sensation, cool smooth skin rubbing against his own scarred flesh. Silky smooth black locks blocking his vision and smelling of expensive red wine and death— the scent of death, and the occasional waft of gunpowder as long, thin fingers brushed past his face to grip his hair, only increasing his arousal and urgency._

_The pressure and pleasure came in powerful waves. Waves that drowned out everything else around him. The only thing that stuck out in his mind was the red clothing that waved around him, undulating with their movements. Sometimes the waves came even when they weren’t moving, just flowing over them regardless of their participation. Stomach-tightening, toe-curling pleasure that made him feel as though he were drowning in a deep, churning sea._

            Anderson grit his teeth and slammed his fist into the tiled wall, the pain throbbing up his knuckles to his wrist and finally his elbow. It hadn’t hit him at first who the person in the dream was, but it didn’t take long for his brain to provide the unwanted answer. He hoped, prayed, begged that the vampire had fucked with his brain—that it wasn’t his own subconscious that had provided that ammo for such an evil, but erotic dream.

            Turning off the water, Anderson tried to ignore the warmth twisting in his gut and the slight twitch between his legs. Remembering the dream had reminded his body how pleasant it had felt that morning. He hadn’t been that hard in a long time, but now the mere thought turned his stomach with disgust.

 

            Once dressed from the waist down, Anderson emerged from the bathroom to find that the vampire had elected to doze on the sofa. It baffled him how trusting the creature was. The vampire may have had orders not to harm Anderson, or anyone else, but that didn’t mean Anderson was under the same order. Yes, he owed Integra, but what would stop him from hacking off the vampire’s head while he slept? Or driving a stake through his un-beating, blacked heart? Nothing. Not a single fucking thing.

            Anderson moved around the sofa, watching the vampire like a fox watching a hen. It was a strange thing, comparing a vampire, even a sleeping one, to the likes of a hen, but Anderson was still feeling particularly violent.

            Alucard lay as quiet and still as he had the previous night, dark lashes resting against pale cheeks. His complexion was a little paler than it had been the night before, but it was barely noticeable. Anderson no doubt only noticed because he was watching to see any movement behind closed eyelids. There was none.

            As he watched the dead sleeping figure, chest rising and falling ever so slightly in the camouflaging defense mechanism of the dead, his anger began to boil. His face flushed as his blood pressure rose. His nostrils flared as his breathing grew more rapid.

            He couldn’t stand the peacefulness of that pale, narrow face. He hated to see the innocence, the unnatural mask of youth that hid a monster.

            In a fit of blind rage, Anderson reached down and grabbed the small, thin figure by the throat, fingers digging into flesh with bruising force. Alucard’s eyes snapped open and he wriggled slightly as he was yanked from the sofa. Anderson swung the vampire around like a dead cat, before slamming the smaller figure against the wall with a loud, resounding _thump_. Alucard’s naked fingers scrambled over the back of Anderson’s hand and wrist, applying pressure but never scratching or clawing. His legs flailed, trying to find purchase on carpet or wall but finding none due to his smaller frame.

            An angry, guttural hiss forced its way up the vampire’s throat and past his elongated fangs. The growl was more animalistic and vicious than Anderson had ever heard, and it only made his fingers squeeze harder.

            “Go on—do it, beast!” he spat, his temples throbbing, his voice harsher and rougher than it had been in what felt like years. “Fight back!”

            Alucard struggled for a moment more, hands trying to pry the hand away from his throat, but Anderson only grabbed the vampire by the jaw with his free hand, pressing him harder into the wall. Another rumbling growl rose up from the vampire’s chest, his crimson eyes glowing red as he tried to shake his head free.

            For the briefest of moments, Anderson felt the bite of nails in the back of his wrist, but a second later, it was gone. The vampire’s struggles slowed until he hung limp in Anderson’s grip, his hands merely holding onto the back of his wrists, no longer fighting.

            “Fight back!” Anderson snapped. “ _Fight back you fucking monster_!” he shouted, not thinking, not caring if anyone heard.

            Alucard’s hateful, angry, flaming eyes glared at him over his hands.

            “ _FIGHT BACK!_ ” he practically roared, flexing the muscles in his arms and adding more crushing force to his hold.

            The vampire’s red eyes widened and bulged slightly as Anderson felt the delicate muscles of the vampire’s throat begin to give under his force, and then the crunching grinding snap as Alucard’s jaw crumbled.

            A high-pitched, whistling shriek escaped the vampire. Suprised not only by the sound but by the feeling of bones giving way against his hands, Anderson dropped the smaller figure and took a step back.

            Alucard collapsed against the base of the wall, a hand lifting to hover near his face.

            Anderson felt his heart beating wildly against his ribs, his pulse fluttering as though he’d run 20k, his blood pumping so loudly in his ears he felt almost deafened.

            Alucard sat crumpled against the wall, looking smaller than a monster had any right to. His jaw hung at an awkward angle, and blood dripped from one corner of his mouth, his nose, and both of his eyes. For a few moments, the pentagrams glowed bright red through the black fingerless gloves, flickering like the flame of a candle as the vampire remained curled where he was.

            Anderson wondered if the vampire was considering disemboweling him or not.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

            The tension in the room was suffocating. Anderson stood stock still, as if in shock, listening to the own rapid hammering of his heart. Alucard, still as Adrian, remained on the floor—hunched over, frame trembling just slightly. Besides that initial yip of pain, the vampire remained silent, his eyes closed, face covered in blood.

            The cry of pain and the sensation of breaking bones and muscle tendons had been enough to snap Anderson out of his anger. He stood above Alucard, feeling lost and confused, and almost as though he’d blacked out, even though he could remember all of his actions. He could look back upon the last few moments as if he were looking through fogged glass—seeing, but not really understanding.

            The pentagrams on Alucard’s hands flickered feebly for a few moments more, then faded and returned to being hidden beneath his dark black gloves. Anderson had seen the glowing pentagrams before, but had never really given them too much thought. Right then, though, he could think of nothing else. What did the marks mean?

            With a soft gasp and a breathy, bloody exhale, Alucard’s jaw snapped back into place. He remained where he fell, eyes still closed and brows furrowed. He clicked his jaw twice before moving it from side to side, testing the healed injury. Only once he was sure that it had healed properly did he open his eyes and peer up through his black hair at Anderson, who felt his whole body run cold.

            Alucard’s face was covered in blood, his crimson eyes bloodshot and streaked red. Anderson had seen many vampires bleed from the eyes, but he’d never once figured the blood to be tears—until now. It wasn’t the trauma that caused the mouth, nose, and eyes to bleed; the eyes bled because tears were shed. The thought was almost too much for the priest to bear.

            “Why didn’t you fight back?” he managed, his voice sounding horse and weak. All of his rage, his anger had drained from him, leaving him feeling exhausted.

            Alucard glared back. “I’m not allowed to hurt you,” he said, his own voice sounding gravely as well. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, using wall behind him for balance. “I thought we’d been over that.” He carefully wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his sleeve; the material came back stained a dark red. “I never figured that you’d use such cheap tactics, Anderson. At least, not against me.” The disappointment in the smaller figure’s voice made Anderson’s stomach churn.

            “Your master isn’t here,” he forced out quietly. He hated the guilt he was feeling; it was ridiculous! Why should he feel guilty about causing a demon spawn pain? “How would she know if you’d hurt me at all? I’m a regenerator.” He needed to excuse his actions somehow.

            Alucard eyed him seriously for a moment, looking up at him from his shorter stature before stepping closer and snatching up the taller man’s hand. Anderson twitched but didn’t withdraw, letting the vampire lift his right hand.

            “This,” was all the warning Alucard offered before he dug the sharpened nails of his right hand into the back of Anderson’s wrist.

            Anderson hissed, the muscles in his arm jerking slightly at the pain of his skin being torn and the vampire’s nails digging deep into his flesh. Alucard held him fast, blood oozing up around his fingers. He stopped pushing once he hit bone a second later.

            The moment that Alucard’s nails had broken the skin’s topmost layer, the pentagrams on the backs of his hand burned fire-red through the gloves. Anderson didn’t understand at first, but then he saw it: the slightest cringe at the corner of the vampire’s eyes, the barely noticeable downward twitch of his lips.

            He was in pain.

            “Stop,” Anderson breathed, his blue eyes focused on the vampire’s face, which was mostly masked by drying blood.

            Alucard seemed not to hear him.

            “Stop it!” Anderson snapped, yanking his hand free from the vampire. He held his now blood-stained fingers in his own hand.

            Alucard blinked, surprised, and looked up at him. The slight hint of pain that had been barely visible vanished, and the burning pentagrams faded.

            “Don’t,” Anderson breathed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” He shook his head a little harder, more at himself than at the vampire. “Truce. I can’t fight you when you can’t fight back.”

            “It wouldn’t be as much fun,” Alucard said quietly, and Anderson couldn’t help but chuckle. The sound bubbled up in him, quiet at first, and then grew in volume. Alucard blinked up at him again, surprised at the other man’s response.

            “Goddamn,” Anderson sighed, turning his back on the smaller figure and running his fingers through his still damp hair. “Only you.” He moved to the sofa and sat down on it, letting his head fall back to look up at the ceiling.

            Alucard studied the blond in silence for a long time, the backs of his hands throbbing slightly from the activation of the seals. It was only when he was beginning to think perhaps he should go out again that night that the other man sat up and returned his focus to him.

            “I’ll let you sleep.” Anderson groaned as he stood up from the sofa. “And, this time, I won’t, uh, break your jaw,” he assured awkwardly as he rounded the sofa and crossed to the bed.

            Alucard moved towards the sofa himself, feeling that sleep could only improve his mood, whether or not the priest kept his word. Before he settled down, however, Anderson was back at the end of the sofa and rubbing his temple as he looked down at him.

            “Okay, I… I have to ask. What’s with the pentagram light show?” He gestured vaguely towards Alucard’s gloved hands.

            Alucard cocked a brow and glanced down at his hands before looking back up at Anderson.

            “I’ve seen them before, but I never really…cared, or thought about it. What are they?”

            “Cared?”

            “I’m just curious,” Anderson snapped.

            Alucard chuckled and lay back on the sofa, crossing his ankles and resting his hands on his stomach. He tapped his fingers lazily against his stomach as he gazed blankly up at the ceiling. “They’re seals—dark, religious seals. They bind me to the Hellsing bloodline. Abraham’s brilliant idea,” he snorted quietly to himself. “When they glow, they’re activated.”

            “But…I don’t understand.” Anderson frowned, and moved around the sofa to squat on the floor near the edge of the sofa. “How, exactly, do they bind you to Hellsing?”

            “I don’t really understand how it works,” Alucard admitted with a shrug. “I wasn’t exactly…conscious for the entire ceremony.”

            “Ceremony?”

            “It’s dark magic, Anderson. There’s always a ceremony.”

            Anderson quietly apologized for interrupting, and Alucard continued.

            “How I understand it, the magic has something to do with the blood. Abraham used his blood to tie me to him, and in turn his sons—he had three you know,” Alucard mused. “The eldest one died when he was quiet young. Drowned. Abraham’s wife was never the same again. Arthur was the next—”

            “Integra’s father?”

            “Yes. His younger brother—he was a worm. I never would have served him.”

            “Would you have had a choice?” Anderson frowned. “If the seals force you…”

            “They don’t exactly force me,” Alucard said, turning to look at the man kneeling on the floor. “It’s like a lead for a dog. I’m given an order, and I have the choice to disobey it. But, if I disobey, the seal is activated, and I’m punished.”

            “It hurts you?”

            “Yes. I can ignore it, for the most part. Pain isn’t something that I’m afraid of anymore. Actually, I can find it quiet enjoyable, given the right circumstances. It motivates me during battle, for instance.”

            Anderson couldn’t help the slight chuckling snort that escaped him.

            Alucard quirked a smile as he looked at the other man. “Pain can be a great motivator.”

            “So, if it the pain doesn’t…control you…”

            “It isn’t the pain that does it. It’s…something else. A pressure, something behind the magic that forces itself upon me,” Alucard mused. “It triggers something beyond pain. But, besides keeping me in line, the seals restrain my powers and abilities. If my master tells me to maintain a certain shape, I have to maintain it. If my master tells me not to use any of my abilities, I can’t use any of my abilities. During missions, I have verbal permission to access and unlock certain powers, but only until the mission is complete.”

            “So, you’d only be able to use your powers if it _does_ turn out there’s a vampire killing students?”

            “Deadly force, yes.”

            Anderson nodded and straightened up, ignoring the throbbing ache in his knees. He didn’t fully understand, but he supposed that was because neither did Alucard. He turned without another word and returned to the bed, turning off the lights and climbing up on top of his covers.

            He listened in the darkness for sounds that he knew weren’t going to come. He couldn’t hear anything from the sofa where he knew the vampire slept, and he wasn’t entirely sure that the lack of sound was reassuring or not.

            _“Pain can be a great motivator.”_

            Anderson rubbed his temples as he gazed unblinkingly up at the darkened ceiling. The night’s earlier conversation played on repeat in his head, usually followed by the more grisly details of breaking the vampire’s jaw.

            _Pull yourself together. What is this? Are you feeling bad for the monster now? No. No, you’re not. No sob story can ever change the fact that he’s a demon. He’d try and kill you if given the chance._

Anderson growled quietly to himself and pulled a pillow up over his head, hoping that the swirling thoughts and images would fade away quickly.

\---

            The following day, Alucard had come to the conclusion that if he didn’t discover what was happening to the students at the Catholic boarding school soon, he was going to go mad. Or, at the very least, more mad than he already might have been.

            School was not the sort of challenge he enjoyed; mainly because it was hardly a challenge at all. He finished all of his homework during classes, leaving him only to remember what to turn in and when. If he were to be perfectly honest with himself, he was bored out of his mind. The only excitement that he’d had since arriving in Scotland was the previous evening with Anderson, and even that had been tarnished by the man’s apparent regret.

            He couldn’t understand why Anderson should feel guilty; it wasn’t like they hadn’t done worse to each other. Alucard couldn’t stand thinking about the regret, the guilt, the confusion reflected in the other man’s usually steely gaze. It infuriated him.

            He felt the pencil snap beneath his thumb before he heard it.

            “Uh…”

            Alucard blinked and glanced at the broken pencil before looking over at Ethan, who was seated kitty-corner from him in the next row. He was slightly turned around in his seat and looking at Alucard with a curios and nervous look on his face.

            “You okay?”

            “Yeah,” Alucard replied, straightening up slightly and breaking the pencil pieces apart, setting the eraser half off to the side of his desk. “Headache.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe you should go to the nurse?” Ethan suggested.

            Alucard rose a brow and pretended to think about it before shaking his head. “No, that’s okay. I wouldn’t want to miss anything on the second day of classes.” A lie, but he also didn’t need the nurse potentially discovering his undead nature. Wouldn’t that just be perfect?

            “I could take notes for you,” Ethan offered, and Alucard felt amused by the other boy’s eagerness to establish their friendship.

            He smiled and waved away the offer. “No, that’s okay, really. Besides, this is the only class we have together. If I were to miss out on any others, I’d be royally screwed.”

            This got a nervous chuckle from the other boy, who nodded and turned back around in his seat as the professor entered the room.

            Alucard settled back for another long and boring day, passing the time by making plans to investigate all that evening.

\---

            Anderson’s second day of teaching was considerably easier than his first—something that he was eternally grateful for. He was beginning to get back into the stride of teaching teenagers, which he hadn’t done for quite awhile. He was more fond of smaller children than teenagers; they could be just as bothersome, but at least, for the most part, he found them charming.

            During his break period, he decided to sit in the teachers’ lounge and go over his next class’ lesson-plan. He hadn’t intended to interact with anyone beyond a hello or a wave; he didn’t feel comfortable around these other religious figures. All they did was constantly remind him that he was a sham.

            Of course, as usual, what he intended and what was were two totally different things.

            “Do you mind if I join you?”

            Anderson looked up from his papers to find a narrow strip of a man before him. A stack of papers was piled up in his arms, nearly to his chin.

            “Not at all,” Anderson replied, waving at the other armchair beside the window.

            “Thank you,” the man said with a sigh of relief, setting the papers down on the small table between them. “I hated to bother you. You looked like you wanted to be left alone, but the light is best over here, and my eyesight isn’t all that great.”

            “It isn’t a problem,” Anderson said, and he looked over the other man as he settled into the other armchair.

            He was a thin man of average height, with long dark brown hair that was pulled back into a neat braid, pale yellow skin, and almost gray eyes. Anderson wondered what part of Asia this man’s parents or even grandparents might have hailed from; he’d never been very good at discerning Asians apart without hearing them speak their native languages, and even then some things would trip him up.

            “You’re Father Anderson, aren’t you? Just started working here this year?” he asked, pulling a small portion of the stack of papers over to his lap.

            “That’s right.”

            “Ah, I thought so,” he said with a polite smile. “I didn’t think your build looked familiar.” He extended a hand. “I’m Joseph.”

            “Nice to meet you.” Anderson accepted the smaller man’s hand and shook it before leaning back in his chair. “If you don’t mind my asking, exactly how bad is your eyesight?”

            “Well, I’m legally blind, but I can see the outlines of objects and people pretty well. It’s just details that I have trouble with. Like, I can see you just fine, but I wouldn’t be able to tell you what color your eyes are, or if you wear glasses, or anything like that.”

            “And you’re still teaching?”

            “Yes. I’ll teach until it’s utterly impossible, and, even then, I’ll find away to continue. I’ve already begun learning braille, since it’s very unlikely that my eyesight will ever get better.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t be,” Joseph said with a bright smile, grabbing the top piece of paper and holding it up into the light and squinting at it. “I’m not. This is the lot that God has dealt me, so I must accept it.”

            “You’re a better man than I am, then,” Anderson said as he crossed his legs and watched the other man with a small amount of pity and wonder. “I don’t think I could take going blind with such grace.”

            “Grace? Oh, I cried, yelled, hated God in the beginning. But I eventually got over it. Yes, it isn’t fun, but what can I do about it? Nothing. So why waste my life and energy being upset, when that time could be better put towards learning how to improve my life?” He chuckled. “Besides, at least this way I won’t have to see certain students’ faces anymore.” His chuckle turned into a pleasant laugh, his cheeks coloring as he lowered the piece of paper. “Oh, don’t tell anyone I said that.”

            Anderson chuckled. “Your secret is safe with me.” He closed his notebook, giving the other man a pleasant smile. “If I’m honest, there are a few I could do without seeing every day.”

            “Yes. I love kids, but some of them are just so…” Joseph made an exasperated sound.

            “I completely understand.” And he did; some kids, you just loved with all your heart and some kids made you want to get up and go to work in the morning; and then there were others you wouldn’t mind literally throwing under a bus. Anderson had been fortunate enough not to have met many children that fell into the latter category. Though he had met a fair few who fell somewhere in the middle.

            “But, even so, I never would have wished harm upon any of them.” Joseph sighed, looking towards the window and leaving his papers momentarily forgotten. There was such a look of pain behind the man’s eyes and the thinness of his lips that Anderson wondered if he’d known any of the victims personally.

            “It’s a terrible tragedy that’s been plaguing the school lately,” Anderson said cautiously, not wanting to startle the man away from the topic.

            Joseph nodded and closed his eyes, dark brows knitting together slightly. “It is. It makes me sick, thinking of what those boys must have been put through before they died. And I’m not entirely sure the few survivors are any better off.”

            Anderson frowned. He personally wasn’t entirely sure if they were either, since they had yet to conclude if this was the work of a vampire or not, but the tone in Joseph’s voice made him pause.

            “What do you mean? They’re alive, aren’t they? They’re safe and cared for, and they get to see their families. I would say that that is a whole lot better than being torn to pieces.”

            Joseph flinched at Anderson’s words, but Anderson didn’t have time to regret the tactless delivery.

            “Yes, but…they’ll carry these scars, these horrors for the rest of their lives,” Joseph replied steadily, something besides pain and anguish reflected in his damaged eyes. “Their lives have been altered. No one should experience such horrors.”

            “Horror happens every day, my friend. To all of us. You losing your eyesight, the scars that litter my body, those students who return home to unhappy households—we all see horror in one form or another, and we must all deal with it. You teach, and accept this as a test from God. Those children will find a way to cope as well.”

            “Will they, though?”

            “Yes,” Anderson said firmly, not wanting to think of the harsher realities if they had indeed been attacked by a vampire. He’d been avoiding thinking of the surviving victims because he didn’t want to have to stomach it, but he knew now that that had been foolish. He was just as much a part of this investigation as Alucard was, regardless of what that bitch Integra said.

            “How can you be so sure, Anderson?”

            “Faith, Joseph. I have faith.” A lie, but a comforting enough one, apparently, for the tension seemed to ease out of the other man’s face gradually, and he let out a long sigh.

            “Thank you, Anderson.”

            “For what?”

            “For reminding me. I needed that today.”

\----

            When Anderson returned to his quarters at the end of the school day, he was mildly surprised to find it dark and empty. He stepped in and turned on the lights, and did a once-over to make sure that the vampire really wasn’t there. Even after his search came up with nothing, Anderson wasn’t entirely convinced; he knew that the vampire could join with the shadows and other such tricks. Even so, he decided not to dwell on it. If Alucard hadn’t been lying before, he shouldn’t be able to use any of his powers beyond changing his form from the teenager Adrian to Alucard, and back again.

            As he went about changing out of his work clothes and into his night clothes, he couldn’t quite decide if he was glad that the vampire wasn’t around. Part of him was grateful for the peace and quiet, but another part of him felt uneasy not knowing where he was at that moment. Would Alucard go back on his promise not to pester any of the students now that Anderson had drawn the first blood, so to speak? He hoped not, but he hated himself for wishing, if only a little, that the vampire would do so—if only to give him a reason to lash out at him again.

            By the time Alucard did return to the quarters, Anderson was halfway through making himself a simple dinner. It was nothing special—fried potatoes and greens with a thin slice of bacon.

            “Where were you?” he asked, not bothering to look over his shoulder at the vampire. He could recognize him by the shift in the atmosphere when he entered the room. Anderson hated that he was gradually growing accustomed to the sensation. He was afraid that it might dull his ability to sense other vampires when they were near.

            “Out.”

            “Out?”

            “Yes, Anderson. Out,” Alucard snapped, glaring at the blond as he finally glanced over his shoulder at him. Alucard was still in the guise of Adrian, and Anderson mentally chuckled to himself. The glare looked almost childlike on his youthful face.

            “Were you investigating?”

            “Do you care?” Alucard replied smoothly as he sat on the sofa and kicked his feet out.

            The vampire appeared irritable—more-so than usual. Anderson plated his food, and he couldn’t help but notice that Alucard, or rather Adrian, didn’t quite look entirely up to snuff.

            The youth’s pale skin looked almost clammy, grayer, as though he hadn’t gotten much sleep or that he was coming down with a serious head cold. The dark circles around the vampire’s eyes looked darker and deeper still, dimming the crimson glow Anderson had come to associat with this particular vampire. Even his fluffy hair looked vaguely wilted and lifeless.

            “You haven’t been feeding, have you? Didn’t Integra send you with a supply of medical blood packets?” Anderson asked as he shut off the stove and left the kitchen. He walked into the living room and stood a few feet away from the sofa, eyeing the lounging vampire keenly.

            “Are you trying to imply something, Anderson?” Alucard sneered, though there wasn’t much bite to it.

            Anderson shrugged one broad shoulder and forked some potato into his mouth, chewing leisurely. “Y’look like shit.”

            “Thank you! There is no higher praise that could come from you!” Alucard mocked, clapping his hands twice before sinking farther down onto the sofa. He looked positively grumpy. “And for your information, no, I have not been feeding. Haven’t had the time,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

            After a moment or two his dull gaze swung up towards Anderson, who paused mid-chew, his brain just _daring_ the vampire to suggest or even try using him as a live blood-bag.

            “For Christ’s sake, Anderson, sit down. You’ll tear up your digestive tract if you eat standing up,” the vampire snapped before slapping the cushion beside him irritably.

            Anderson blinked, surprised, but moved over to the sofa and took a seat. “Did you learn anything new today?” Anderson asked as he crunched at his bacon.

            Alucard side-eyed him before looking gloomily at the blank television set. “Nothing too terribly enlightening, though perhaps interesting nonetheless.” He shifted into a slightly more upright position and flung his arm over the back of the sofa. “I was informed today of a ghost story that revolves around this school, and has for the last sixty-odd years or so.”

            “Ghost story?” Anderson asked, cocking a brow and pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose with the end of his fork.

            “Yes. Nothing too complex; something along the lines of a mysterious phantom-like creature spiriting away young boys and staff members alike to no one knows where. The usual type of ghost story—hogwash and tripe, mostly. But there was one little detail that stuck out to me.”

            “And that was?”

            “The phantom-ghost’s M.O.” Alucard turned a little in his seat, looking more directly at Anderson now. Anderson, having finished his food, set his plate on the floor by the side of the sofa, keeping his own gaze locked with the vampire’s. “In the story, the ghost spirits away boys and male staff members with dark hair and pale eyes.”

            “Every time, in every version of the story?”

            “Without exception.”

            Anderson mulled this over for a few moments before shifting in his own seat and crossing his ankle across his knee, flinging his own arm over the back of the sofa. “So, this murderer, vampire or otherwise, is fashioning these killings based on this ghost story?” he asked, seeing if he was understanding the vampire correctly.

            Alucard nodded. “It would seem so, which would lead one to believe, that, whoever is doing this…”

            “Would have to be familiar with the school and its history.”

            “Exactly. Which does cut down on potential suspects, but not by much.” Alucard lifted a fingerless-gloved hand. “The people who are most likely to know about this story would be staff, students, ex-students, and possibly some parents.”

            “You’re right; that doesn’t narrow the suspect list down all that much,” Anderson mumbled, scratching his scarred cheek with the back of his knuckles. “And you haven’t felt a vampiric presence at all?”

            Again, the vampire shook his head. “No, but that isn’t to say that there isn’t one. My powers are limited right now, even more-so between dawn, noon, and dusk. It’s possible that there could be a vampire on the campus that I’ve missed thus far. A teacher of a class I’m not taking, the janitor, hell, even the gardener could be a vampire, never mind the countless number of students who I haven’t met or crossed paths with.”

            “This limiting of your powers—it’s a bit of an ass-kicker, isn’t it?” Anderson groused, this new revelation about the murders not enough to keep his spirits up.

            Alucard chuckled. “You have no idea. Unfortunately, that isn’t the worst of it.” Alucard leaned his chin on his hand. “Just because I haven’t sensed a vampire doesn’t mean a vampire hasn’t sensed me.”

            “Wait, you mean that the killer could know that you’re here?” Anderson felt a bit alarmed. Why hadn’t Integra thought about that? Why was she so limiting her lap dog if he was expected to successfully hunt and eliminate a threat?

            “Hmm, depends. If it’s just a run-of-the-mill common vampire—newly reborn—, the likelihood is rather low. I’m not the only vampire in Scotland, hell, I’m not even the only one in this city.” Alucard’s eyes gleamed when he saw Anderson’s frame stiffen. “Relax, word on the street hasn’t risen any alarms. Besides the killings at the school, all is calm and quiet. But, if our killer is new, I doubt that they’d be able to tell me apart from any other vampire, especially in this form.”

            “Does your form…alter the way your presents resonates?” Anderson asked, suddenly rather curious as to how vampires and vampirism really worked. He knew the basics, but just enough to hunt and kill them. He didn’t actually know much about them as a species or society. He was beginning to wonder if that was a pity or not.

            “No, not really, but the locking of my powers does alter my presence to a certain extent. Another vampire, one who’d been around the block once or twice, would know that I’m a force to be reckoned with. A new vampire wouldn’t have a clue. There are only two kinds of new vampires in this world: the overly bold, and the terribly timid.” Alucard stood from the sofa and stretched his arms over his head, the joints in his shoulders cracking as he flexed. “But if our killer _isn’t_ a new vampire with dulled senses, we may have a problem on our hands.” He lowered his arms and turned to look at Anderson. “If the killer is smart and _does_ sense another vampire at the school, he’ll run.”

            “And if he does, what then?”

            “Then nothing. The deaths will stop, and I’ll be forced to return home, to my Master’s displeasure. It wouldn’t be the first time. Of course, there’s also the chance that the killer won’t run—that they’ll stay and try their luck. Better yet, they may try and locate the other vampire, me.” Alucard pressed a hand to his chest, his teeth elongating into a shark-toothed grinned as his eyes glinted again. “That would be the best possibility—for the killer to reveal himself to me.” He chuckled. “Oh, and then… _Then_ I’d get to have some fun.”

            “You really enjoy it, don’t you?” Anderson asked, eyeing the grinning vampire and taking in the shark-like teeth, and the evil glint in the dull crimson eyes. It morphed the youthful face in an eerie way, almost mirroring the face of the vampire Anderson knew.

            “What?” Alucard’s grin faltered slightly, but only slightly, his attention turning back from fantasies of bloodshed and carnage and towards the blond man sitting on the sofa.

            “Killing vampires. You enjoy it, don’t you? You enjoy killing your own kind.”

            “Enjoy it? Anderson, I revel in it!” Alucard crowed. “I revel in the power, the battle, the carnage! I love the sound of gunfire, the smell of gunpowder and burnt flesh. The sound of breaking bones makes my knees weak and my blood pound!” The utter glee written on the youthful face turned Anderson’s stomach, but he didn’t dare look away. The vampire was telling him more than he probably realized, and Anderson wasn’t going to miss a word of it. “The sheer delight of overpowering my target and watching the fear and helplessness eclipse the hope—! Ah, nothing gives me more pleasure.”

            Anderson nodded, more to himself than to the vampire and stood up from the sofa. He picked up his plate and took it back into the small kitchenette, where he set it in the sink and ran some water over it. “I see. Were you always like this?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Did you always get such sheer pleasure like this from killing your own kind, or humans?” Anderson asked as he began washing the dishes. Steam rising up from the kitchen sink, and he could feel the intense gaze of the vampire boring into him. “Back before Hellsing made you his bitch.” He dared to sneak a glance of the vampire as he moved to put the plate into the drying rack.

            Alucard was watching him, expression blank.

            “Did you get such perverse pleasure from the deaths of others? Or even before that, when you were human, did it please you to slaughter and kill?” he asked as he began scrubbing away at the frying pan.

            Silence was the only thing that answered him, the apartment now quiet save for the sound of clinking dishes and running water. Then he heard the door open and close behind him, and the temperature in the quarters returned to normal.

            Anderson nodded to himself again and finished cleaning the dishes.

 

             


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

 

            Alucard didn’t return to the quarters even after a few hours had passed. Anderson, while preparing for bed, assumed that the vampire had probably elected to go to his secret place. He tried not to think too much about Alucard potentially going back on his word and returning to the dorm assigned to him, or roaming the street and potentially harassing people. Given that the vampire hadn’t fed in awhile, and how irritable he’d been, a night spent in his coffin and feeding on medical blood would do them both a world of good. So, after spending a good thirty minutes lying in bed trying to convince himself not to worry or stress about him too much, Anderson was lucky enough to fall into a dreamless sleep.

            Alucard wasn’t so lucky.

 

            After leaving the school grounds, Alucard had shifted back into his usual state. He roamed the darker streets and back alleys to slowly make his way toward his coffin’s current resting place. Anderson’s questions had ruffled him, and he couldn’t exactly put his finger on why. He was beyond human morals, beyond trying to cling to a humanity he no longer had. So why did the other man’s questions bother him so much?

            Alucard had always been accepting of the joy he found in the hunt and the kill. For a time, it was the only joy and pleasure he was permitted; and even when all he was permitted was hunting and killing, he couldn’t go all-out. If he showed too much enjoyment, that leash would be yanked on— _hard_.

            _“The sick freak! He’s too dangerous! You can’t permit him to be used!”_

_“The hunt was successful, wasn’t it?”_

_“He went off completely half-cocked, Abraham! He’s too dangerous!”_

_“I only wanted to please you, my master. Isn’t this what you wanted?”_

            Alucard paused halfway down an alleyway that was overflowing with trash, the voices from the past pushing their way loudly to the forefront of his brain. His eyes narrowed as the voices yelled and argued in his head, and the world around him momentarily melted away. 

            _“Abraham, this was a complete disaster!”_

_The voices carried easily from the study, and the vampire had no trouble hearing them from his hiding place in the shadows of the hallway. The firelight flickered between the door and the frame, cutting a thin slice of light across the marble flooring to do battle with the silver light of the moon._

_“You’re overreacting, John,” his master replied, his voice considerably quieter and far more collected. The vampire heard the top of a decanter of brandy being loosened, and the clinking of ice cubes hitting crystal as the liquid was poured._

_“Overreacting? Overreacting?! If anything, you’re not reacting_ enough, _Abraham!” Seward replied angrily, slapping his hands down atop the oak desk in frustration._

_The vampire’s eyes narrowed as he listened. Seward had always been a bit overemotional, too easily stimulated. His addictions no doubt had something to do with that._

_“What exactly should I be reacting to, John? We had a mission, and we successfully finished it. It was a complete success. Why can’t you be proud of that?”_

_“It wasn’t a success, Bram! That… That freak completely went off half-cocked!”_

_“He was a bit zealous, perhaps—”_

_“No, Abraham, he was completely unhinged! I told you from the beginning that I didn’t like what you were doing, but I helped you anyway because you are important to me.” Something akin to regret seemed to have seeped into the younger doctor’s voice, and the vampire inched a bit closer to the study door, still clinging to the shadows. “I told you from the beginning that this was a dangerous idea—a bad idea. Abraham, you have shown yourself to be a remarkable man, a talented man, but this… This is just too much.”_

_“I hear you, John, but I don’t see what happened tonight as a step in the wrong direction. Again, the mission was a complete success. Alucard was perhaps just a bit over-zealous.”_

_The vampire’s eyes narrowed further at the words of his master, brows furrowing._

_“Did you see what he did to those people, Bram? He— God…”_

_“They were not people anymore, friend John. You know that as well as I do.”_

_“Yes, but… God, how can you let such behavior pass? What if we’d been hunting one of our friends? What if it had been Jonathan, or Mina, or Lucy—”_

_“That is enough!” For the first time that evening, there seemed to be an air of anger in the older doctor’s voice. “John, you know what it is that must be done to save the souls of those lost to the vampire._ Ja? _”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Do we not cut off the heads of those we must free from this curse? Do we not stake them through the heart, and shove garlic between their teeth? Do we not burn the bodies into ashes when we must, and scatter them at a crossroads?”_

_“Y-Yes, we do. But, Bram—”_

_“Enough, friend John. I hear you. I understand that you are tired, as I am tired. It has been a long night,_ ja _? Why don’t you go home? Go home and rest. Return to your wife; she will miss you, no? Go, go. I will see you soon.”_

_“Very well. Goodnight.”_

_“Goodnight.”_

_A moment later, the door of the study opened, flooding the darkened hallway with warm firelight. Alucard straightened up slightly as the thin, slightly stooped figure of John Seward left the office. The man paused in the middle of putting his hat on, eyes locating the vampire in the shadows, pressed against the wall. He glared at him as he put his hat on and quickly made his way out._

_Alucard bared his teeth in a silent threat that caused the seals on the back of his naked hands to flicker slightly. He clenched his hands into fists as he watched the man disappear around the corner at the end of the hall._

_“Will you continue to lurk in shadows, vampire?” his master asked from within the study, drawing Alucard’s attention. “Or will you come into the light?”_

_Alucard knew that it wasn’t a question, but an order, and pushed from the wall to walk into the study._

_Abraham was standing by the fire, crystal glass of brandy in hand. He was still wearing his deep dark red traveling jacket, though he’d removed his gloves and equipment belt._

_“Master, is there anyth—” Alucard’s eyes widened and he was forced to duck as the brandy glass was viciously thrown at his head. He blinked as it shattered on the far wall, splattering the wall and floor with amber liquid._

_“What were you thinking when you went off like that?” Abraham snapped, blue eyes ablaze with fury as he rounded on the vampire._

_Alucard’s own crimson gaze widened and he shook his head slightly. “I— I was just—”_

_“Three of my men ended up dead because of you!” Abraham barked, and with the force of being hit with a rampaging horse the seals carved into the vampire’s skin were lit aflame. With a shriek of surprise and pain, Alucard crumpled to the floor, muscles and joints contracting with the crushing force of the magic that was used to hold him. “This mission was supposed to go smoothly! I wanted no accidents!”_

_Alucard gasped as he was forced onto his back and held in place by his master’s boot. He shook his head, forcing his eyes open against the pain thrumming through every molecule of his being._

_“I only wanted to please you, my master. Isn’t this what you wanted?” he managed to force past clenched teeth. “Didn’t you want the vampires destroyed? Wasn’t that your order?”_

_“Do not speak to me about my orders, vampire!” Abraham growled, leaning over his knee and pressing more of his weight down on the vampire’s chest. “When I give you an order to do something, I expect you to do it.”_

_“But—”_

_“And I expect you to do it fast, efficiently, and with little to_ no _casualties!”_

_“Y-Yes, master.”_

            Alucard’s eyes refocused and blinked once. He was once again standing in the alleyway, the moonlight shining weakly down upon him through the clouds. A rat squeaked at him from atop a trashcan, but, besides a passing glance, he paid it no mind as he moved on.

\---

            Alucard sat atop his closed coffin, sipping at a medical blood pack moodily. The smell of damp earth and dirty water made the air around him smell stale and moldy. It wouldn’t have been his first choice of accommodations, but he also wasn’t all that picky. It wasn’t as though the smell of dirt bothered him.

            He finished off the blood packet and tossed it aside. Once this mission was complete, all evidence of his stay there would be erased by the Hellsing Organization’s cleanup crew. The organization had had a cleanup crew since its official opening day, but, besides disposing of dead-undead bodies, it hadn’t been put to much use back in the day.

            He flipped open the cooler and pulled out a second blood packet, pondering how the organization had changed over the years. How he’d changed over the years.

            As with anything that lives a long life, adaption and change must happen. As technology changed, so did the organization. The methods of hunting and killing vampires had been remastered so many times that it had almost become an art. Of course, it was really no surprise that eventually someone would have realized that the best way to kill a vampire was to send another vampire. Vampires had been warring and killing each other for as long as they’d roamed the earth. There was just something about a race of beings that couldn’t really grow and evolve that made them easily affronted.

            Even before he was Alucard, before he’d left his homeland, he’d had to do battle against other vampires—vampires who did not see things the way he did, who wanted to force their views onto him, or wanted to use him for their own gain. He destroyed them all, without hesitation.

            _“Did you get such perverse pleasure from the deaths of others? Or even before that, when you were human, did it please you to slaughter and kill?”_

            Lowering the blood pack from his mouth, Alucard pondered the priest’s questions. They bothered him, no matter how he tried not to let them. He’d known death and killing for so long, in so many different forms—even when he’d been human. Had he always gotten such pleasure from killing? Had slaughter made his blood boil in his veins? It was a hard question to answer, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself.

            “Idiotic,” he grumbled to himself, crushing the remnants of the blood packet in his hands. Then he stood up from his coffin and made his way towards the exit.

\---

            _The first thing that Anderson was aware of was the sound of church bells, and the sweet smell of baked goods. Then he remembered—yes, it was one of the boys at the orphanage’s birthday. Corey, if he remembered correctly, was turning eight that day._

_He followed the sound of laughter, and found himself out in the courtyard where the children were running around and getting some fresh air. There were one or two other faceless guardians watching over the children while they played, but Anderson didn’t pay them any attention. His focus was on the children._

            _“Father, Father!”_ _A skinny little blonde boy with a gap in his teeth ran full speed towards him, colliding with his legs_. _“Come play with us, Father!”_ _The boy insisted with a wide smile, grabbing at Anderson’s pants._

            _“Oh, hold on now,”_ _Anderson chuckled as the boy tried to drag him along with him_. _“What’s the hurry?”_

            _“We’re playing hide-and-go-seek tag, Father! You should be ‘it’!”_

_Anderson let the boy pull and tug on his sleeve, leading him through the courtyard to, no doubt, where the other children were playing._

_When they rounded the corner, the blonde boy was gone, as was the orphanage grounds._

_Anderson blinked and glanced around. In a spinning torrent, he was hit with a cacophony of sights and sounds—all vivid, all graphic, and all accompanied by the stench of death._

            _“Is this all you remember of your battles, Anderson?”_

_Anderson glanced over his shoulder, and was only mildly surprised to see Alucard standing there._

            _“Ah, I see, this is a dream,”_ _Anderson said with a nod, crossing his arms and scowling at Alucard._ _“You’re invading my dreams now, are ya, vampire?” Part of him had wanted to believe that the vampire had been messing with his head, but now that he was aware of the vampire’s presence, part of Anderson’s subconscious had to admit that his previous dreams had been of his own doing and not the vampire’s._ _“Get the fuck out of my head, monster.”_

            _“I’m trying to answer your questions, Anderson. I’d hoped it would be easier if I knew how you viewed your own battles,”_ _Alucard replied dully, glancing past Anderson at the sights, sounds, and smells the priest remembered._

            _“Has it been enlightening for you?”_ _Anderson sneered._

            _“No.”_

 

            Anderson blinked blearily at the wall he was curled up against before sitting up and looking towards the figure seated on the edge of the bed at his feet. Alucard was perched there in the guise of Adrian, legs and arms crossed, hair falling gracefully into his eyes. Anderson reached towards the bedside table and picked up his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as to better see the vampire through the darkness.

            “Doesn’t invading someone else’s head break the fucking rules of causing no harm?” he spat grumpily, pushing his glasses up again as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

            Alucard shifted slightly. “I was only observing.”

            “So you weren’t influencing my dreams at all?” Anderson needled suspiciously.

            Alucard shifted again to look sideways at him. “My presence might have influenced your dreams a bit, since your mind recognizes me as an enemy,” he mused, scratching at his cheek.

            Anderson breathed heavily through his nose and straightened up, back pressed against the headboard. He crossed his arms across his bare chest and eyed the small figure at the end of the bed. “Why were you in my head?”

            “I wanted to answer your questions,” Alucard repeated simply. “But the more I thought about it, the harder it was to pin down and answer.” He uncrossed his legs and crawled further onto the bed, re-crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees as he turned his full attention towards the priest. “It’s difficult—”

            “There’s nothing difficult about what I asked you, vampire,” Anderson said harshly, frowning hard at the smaller figure. “There is nothing difficult about owning up to one’s feelings.” He knew that he wasn’t being entirely honest, since he’d been having difficulty with his own feelings as of late, but he didn’t care. “I enjoy battle—if it is a battle for a good cause. It’s thrilling, exhilarating. I admit that.”

            Alucard frowned at him, but Anderson kept his expression hard. “No, you don’t understand, Anderson. It _is_ difficult. It’s difficult because…” Alucard’s gaze seemed to lose focus as he spoke. “I don’t remember everything,” he admitted quietly, his foggy gaze looking up at the other man. “Some of it is…there—hazy—, but other things… Other things are out of my reach.”

            Anderson sat up slightly. “What do you mean?”

            “I mean, I remember events, encounters from my time under Integra, during the war, before…” He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing the fluffy inky black locks out of his crimson eyes. “But there are only some things I remember from before Hellsing, before England—before I was what I am.”

            Anderson’s expression softened slightly and he blinked at Alucard. He’d never thought about the fact that the vampire might not remember everything, which, now that he thought about it, was a rather silly thing to think on. Most people didn’t remember what they had for breakfast; why would someone who’d lived five lifetimes remember every single detail?

            “What do you remember?” he asked, surprised by the gentleness in his quiet voice.

            Alucard seemed a bit surprised too, but neither said anything about it. He gave a slight shrug of his shoulder before he spoke. “I remember buildings, certain people’s faces, some smells. I remember a song, a voice, but I don’t know whose voice it is, or who was singing. Sometimes, I remember entire days and conversations, but, mostly, it’s just broken and disjointed sights and sounds and smells.”

            “You remember smells?”

            “Yes. Sometimes, if I catch a scent of something similar, it’ll trigger a memory. Same with visual stimuli, but it’s rare. So much is different in today’s world than it was five hundred years ago, so there’s hardly any way to trigger memories anymore.”

            Anderson ran his hand along his chin and across his mouth, then sighed as he drew his knees up slightly and leaned his arms over them. He wondered how often the vampire spent long hours trying to remember things that simply wouldn’t surface. It was easy for him to imagine that it was easier for the vampire to just… _be_ in the moment, enjoy what was given to him in the here and now, rather than suffer trying to remember things that wished to remain elusive.

            “I…don’t remember a lot of things from my past either,” he said quietly, catching the vampire’s attention.

            Alucard’s crimson eyes seemed to shine brighter, refocusing as Anderson rested his chin on his hand.

            “I don’t know where I was born, who my parents were, if I had siblings. I don’t remember being a child, or a teenager, or a young adult. I don’t remember when I joined the Iscariot, or became a priest, or a warrior for God. I don’t remember where half of these scars came from,” he said, running a finger along the scar on his cheek—the most noticeable mark on his skin. “Sometimes, it’s as though I was never born, never grew up—as if I simply popped into existence as a powerful, regenerating, crusading monster.” He met the other’s gaze and held it. “But I remember you. I remember hearing about you for years. Decades, even. I remember hearing about Hellsing’s secret weapon, their vampire-slaying weapon. You were the boogeyman that piqued my imagination for a long time.” Anderson snorted, smiling ironically to himself. “You were who I was most eager to meet, to engage in battle with. You didn’t disappoint.”

            “Well, I’m glad for that,” Alucard said with his own smile, shoulders quaking slightly as he restrained quiet laughter. “Look at us—two crusading monsters being dragged forward through time while we gradually lose more and more about ourselves.”

            “We do make quite a pair, don’t we?” Anderson chuckled. “I don’t know about you, but, sometimes, it keeps me up nights. The not knowing.”

            “Sometimes it does.” Alucard lifted a knee and rested his chin atop it. “I try not to think about it too much. Gives me a headache.” He tilted his head slightly, eyeing Anderson thoughtfully. “Do you want to know?”

            “Hmm?”

            “About who you were before you were recruited into God’s hellish crusade against the evils of the world?”

            Anderson blinked, surprised, and frowned at the small figure at the end of his bed. “Well, of course I do,” he replied. “It’s only natural that I’d want to know who I was before I was this.” He was still frowning at the vampire. “You might be losing your memories of who you were, but there will always be something of your former self there. You will always have the history books to look back on, whether they’re entirely accurate or not. But me, I’m…I’m no one. There are no history books that would give me a clue to who I was before. So, yes, of course I would want to know that.”

            “I could tell you,” Alucard said simply, letting his head loll to the side as his chin teetered on his kneecap. Anderson stared at him, and Alucard nodded his head. “I could tell you everything about who you were before you were this, Anderson.”

            “How?”

            “Well…” Alucard shrugged his shoulders in an noncommittal gesture. “I would need to drink your blood. The more blood, the more memories I receive from my victim.”

            Anderson balked slightly, the color draining from his face as a cold chill ran along his skin. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “I want to know, but it isn’t worth it.”

            Alucard smiled, a more gentle smile than Anderson was used to seeing; it was unnerving. The vampire lifted his head and let his knee fall, resting his weight back on his hands.

            “No, I thought not. But I’ve made the offer, Anderson, and it will stand should you ever change your mind. No strings attached, nothing owed. If you ever change your mind, all you have to do is ask,” Alucard said with a lazy wave of his hand.

            “I’m not sure I like the idea of sharing any of myself with the likes of you, vampire,” Anderson said, though not entirely maliciously. “Not that it hasn’t always been a vile thought—one’s blood giving life to something like you—but, after seeing what you did in London…” Anderson felt his stomach turn as images from the bloody battle flashed rapidly past his mind’s eye. “After that, not only is it vile, it is absolutely monstrous.”

            Alucard smiled. “Of course it is. I’m a monster, after all.”

\---

            _The snow eddied lazily past the large window, flakes looking like little balls of light as they reflected the setting sun. Alucard felt relaxed and lazy, laying stretched out along the library sofa. He loved the snow. It reminded him of his home in Romania, high in the mountains where the ground and trees would be blanketed in thick layers of white purity. Snow was a magical and interesting thing. It could make any landscape, no matter its worth, look bleak and desolate as well as picturesque and fantastical._

_“Alucard.”_

_He blinked lazily and tilted his head back to watch his master enter the library, his well-worn but nevertheless nice shoes tapping lightly on the marble floors. Alucard nodded his head in his master’s direction, acknowledging the other’s presence._

_“What are you doing?” his master asked, coming to stand at the head of the sofa._

_Alucard turned his attention back to the dancing snowflakes. “Enjoying the view. It’s very lovely,” Alucard replied, voice quiet and drawn-out in his relaxed state. His lips quirked upwards slightly into a lazy smile. “And it will only become even lovelier once the sun has set at the full moon rises.”_

            _He heard the movement of his master crossing to the calendar on the wall, no doubt checking whether the evening really was destined to have a full moon._

_After a moment longer, Alucard watching the falling snow all the while, his master returned to the sofa, snapping his fingers at the side of Alucard’s head. “Scoot.” The order wasn’t harsh, but Alucard dared not hesitate to obey._

_With a sigh, he sat up, fully intending to right himself properly and possibly vacate the sofa. But, once he’d sat up, his master had claimed the cushion behind him, hooking his fingers into the crook of Alucard’s elbows and lowering him back down onto the sofa._

_A surprised Alucard proceeded to lay back down, his head resting on his master’s thigh. He looked up at the man above him. Abraham’s face was mostly in shadow, but his small little frown remained perfectly visible to Alucard from his position. He wondered what the cause of that frown was, but his master said nothing._

_Deciding not to press his luck, Alucard turned his attention back to the window, watching as the outside sky grew darker and darker, and the snow began to fall past the window in thicker and thicker sheets. Alucard thought that the grounds would no doubt be covered in a heavy blanket of snow by the morning, and wondered if perhaps he’d get the chance to walk out in it._

_His musing thoughts were interrupted by his master’s fingers raking through Alucard’s long black hair, startling him. Alucard’s mind raced as the fingers stroked his scalp and hair._

This wasn’t right, _he thought._ This wasn’t right.

 

            With a soft gasp, Alucard’s eyes snapped open. It took him a moment to register the cottage cheese-textured ceiling above him, and a moment longer still to register where he was. He was in Anderson’s quarters at the Catholic school, sleeping on the sofa. He blinked several more times before lifting a fingerless-gloved hand and rubbing at his eyes, more out of reflex than the actual need to wipe sleep from his eyes.

 _A dream_ , he thought to himself as he lowered his hand back to his stomach and stared dully up towards the ceiling. It wasn’t all that often that Alucard dreamed, but, when he did, they were always vivid. And, regardless of whether they were good or bad, they always left him feeling on-edge.

            He lifted his hand to run his fingers through his short, floppy hair, letting his eyes droop. He could still feel the ghost of sensations along his scalp from thicker and more calloused fingers. He gripped his hair and closed his eyes, sighing through his nose as the remnants of the dream began to fade into the oblivion of his mind. Tender moments between himself and his first master were few and far in between, but the ones that had happened were very special to him.

            Once the dream had faded completely, Alucard opened his eyes again and sighed. His internal clock informed him that it was nearly dawn, and he knew that he wouldn’t get back to sleep now. For a while, he listened to Anderson breathing, waiting for the moment when the man would slip from sleep and into the strange in-between stages of sleeping and wakefulness. The change was subtle, but Alucard could hear it—hear the man’s breathing grow a little stronger, shorter, and his heart begin beating a little stronger.

            After a few minutes, he heard Anderson shift in the bed, groaning slightly as tired muscles were forced to contract and stretch as he moved. Alucard himself sat up once he was sure that Anderson had moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and looked over the back of the sofa at the blond man.

            “Bit early for you, isn’t it?” Anderson groused, grumpy at the early hour, and rubbed the crusted sleep out of the corner of his bleary eyes.

            Alucard gave a shrug. “Couldn’t sleep anymore. Sleeping at night isn’t exactly comfortable for someone like me,” he said as he stood from the sofa and stretched his arms out in front of him. He laced his fingers together and stretched even further, causing his shoulders and elbows to pop just before all of his knuckles popped and crackled.

            “Well, if we find this killer, you’ll get to go back to your precious sleep schedule,” Anderson mocked tiredly, standing and gathering up his clothes for the day. He slouched off towards the bathroom, clothes in hand, blond hair a mess.

            As Anderson disappeared down the hall, Alucard noted that his hair was starting to grow upwards. It was certainly longer than Alucard had ever seen it. It wasn’t a bad look for the man; Alucard thought that the added few inches made him look a little younger.

            After hearing the bathroom sink turn off, Alucard stepped into the hallway and tapped on the wall beside the bathroom door. He heard the man in the room go still. “I’m leaving,” he said simply, giving no explanation.

            He waited for a question or a threat, but all that came was the sound of the shower being turned on. He turned and crossed the quarters, headed for the door, and left quietly, leaving the priest to prepare for his day on his own.

\---

            While Anderson scrubbed lazily at his shoulders and arms, his mind gradually began to get back on track, waking up steadily under the warmth of the hot water and rising steam that filled the small bathroom. He thought back on the conversation he’d had with the vampire the previous night—doubts and desires warring inside of him at the vampire’s offer to reveal his past to him. He’d never thought about the fact that Alucard would be able to do that. He was aware that vampires retained memories of their victims, but he’d never thought about it along the lines of something that could be used for his benefit.

            Despite saying that he wasn’t interested in exchanging his blood for his past, that it wasn’t worth it, Anderson couldn’t help but wonder if Alucard had been sincere. If he had accepted, would the vampire have kept his word? No strings attached, nothing owed?

            But then he reminded himself that it wasn’t worth it to permit himself to give any part of himself over to the vampire; it would be damning to his tattered soul. Then, not wanting to linger too long on thoughts of the hereafter, Anderson tried to logic it out. The vampire couldn’t, in fact, tell him about his past, because he couldn’t harm him. And, by feeding on his blood, that would be harming him—at least, physically. Wouldn’t that cause the seals to activate and punish the vampire?

            Despite Alucard explaining it a bit, Anderson still didn’t fully understand how the magic binding the vampire to the Hellsing family worked. But liked to assume that the magic would work in his favor.

            He turned off the shower and dried off, ruffling his hair as he gathered up his dirty clothes and set them into a pile on the toilet lid. He pulled on his boxers, then wiped the condensation off of the mirror and squinted at his blurry reflection.

            “Hair’s getting long,” he said with a sigh, tugging at one of the blonde locks before pushing his hair back away from his forehead. “Perhaps I should cut it,” he mumbled as he gathered up the rest of his things and left the bathroom.

            He padded across the empty living space and dumped his dirty clothes onto the end of the unmade bed. He would need to do laundry at the end of the week, he realized as he dressed for the day, as he debated on whether to do them at the school or find a laundromat in the city.

            “Fucking Christ, this is all starting to feel far too domestic,” he grumbled to himself. With that, he snatched his glasses from the bedside table and pushed them up the bridge of his nose, then turned towards the kitchen to find himself some breakfast.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

There were fewer and fewer conversations as their first week at the Catholic boarding school gradually came to an end. All the two talked about when they were in Anderson’s quarters for the evenings were the murdered boys. It was bleak conversation, but they knew it would only be a matter of time before someone else went missing—before some other unfortunate boy ended up dead.

They had pinned up the photos and documents surrounding the case on the wall above the television set, using it as a way to map out the activity of this potentially supernatural killer. Anderson still showed signs of annoyance whenever Alucard would deny sensing any vampires in the school due to the limitations set on his abilities. It frustrated Anderson to no end that Integra could have been so short-sighted. Why even have a vampire-slaying weapon like Alucard if you weren’t going to use him to his full potential?

“Since this killer is using the basis of an old ghost story, isn’t there some tell?” Anderson had groused several times, irritated by their lack of further clues. “Doesn’t that kid you hang out with have anything else to say about the tale?”

“He is only familiar with the story because someone else told him. There is no telling how many different versions of the tale have been spun over the years. There isn’t even any way to guarantee that the killer is following this rendition of the tale. All we know is that the ghost, like our killer, goes after young boys with dark hair and pale blue or green eyes,” would always be the vampire’s equally irritable response.

“I wish those few survivors could tell us something. Maybe we should go and talk to them,” Anderson eventually suggested, but was quickly shut down by the small vampire.

“A few of the victims are still in the hospital; it would be a chore to get in and question them. The others are with their families at their homes—also a chore to get in and question them. Besides, if they haven’t already talked about it, then I doubt that they remember anything.”

“Do you think this vampire is powerful enough to alter memories?”

“Potentially.”

            Potentially. That is what Alucard always said when they spoke of the killer as a possible vampire—potentially. Anderson was beginning to get more and more irritable as the days slowly crept on towards the weekend. During the week, the students were confined to their quarters, the school grounds, and their classrooms; the environment was safe, contained, and it was easy for Anderson and Alucard to keep eyes and ears open for any possible clues or threats. However, once the weekend came around, things would be more complicated, and could very easily get out of control fast.

            “The students will be permitted to leave the school grounds, come the weekend. And most of them probably will, seeing as this is still the first week of school. They’ll be eager to celebrate surviving it,” Anderson had pointed out to the vampire on Thursday evening, though Alucard had had little to add to his point.

            Anderson tried to put himself in the mindset of a vampire stalking a school—a struggle, and probably not entirely accurate, but the thoughts that came to him troubled him deeply. If he were a vampire, stalking a school that was now in session, the weekends would be the perfect time to strike; especially if said vampire were at all aware of another vampire presence.

            The students would be away from the protection of watchful teachers. They could easily be lured into they city and picked off by the attacker. The teachers couldn’t follow all of the students who left the grounds; they couldn’t always protect all of them. Anderson could hardly believe how frustrated and helpless he felt at the impending situation. It felt like watching an approaching wild beast and not being able to find any way too ward it off.

\---

            During a free period, Anderson found himself gazing blankly out of the windows in the teachers lounge, watching students go this way and that to their next class—some in groups, others alone. He wondered which of the students would be picked off over the weekend. He found himself following dark-haired students with his eyes, watching those few who didn’t travel in a group. The odd man out, that’s who would be a potential victim. Someone without a support group, someone who wouldn’t be missed. His eyes narrowed as he focused on a pair walking across the grounds together, recognizing the vampire Alucard with ease. He wondered if the other young man was Ethan, the boy who had so eagerly befriended the devil in disguise. Anderson couldn’t help but feel that the boy was a fool.

            “Anderson.”

            It took a lot of willpower not to flinch at the hand that awkwardly tapped his shoulder to get his attention. He glanced over his shoulder at the shorter man, forcing himself to smile even though he knew that the other man couldn’t see it.

            “You’re awfully quiet this afternoon. Aren’t you excited for the weekend?” Joseph asked, facing Anderson’s shoulder before turning his face towards the window, the afternoon light adding a glow to the golden hue of his already yellow skin.

            “The weekend just means more work for me,” Anderson replied, turning his own face towards the window, though keeping an eye on the shorter man. “A lot to prepare for. Classes and whatnot.”

            “Ah, that’s your problem Anderson.” Joseph chuckled. “You take everything too seriously. Not that I’m telling you to shrug off your work; that would be irresponsible.”

            “Irresponsible indeed.” Anderson’s smile turned genuine as he refocused on the world beyond the glass. “No, I’m still just trying to adjust to my life here.”

            “Adjusting to any new way of life can be difficult. But before you dig yourself a grave and fall into it, why don’t we get a drink in the city tomorrow evening?”

            “A drink?”

            “Yes, a drink. Do you not drink? I thought all Italians drank,” Joseph teased with a coy smile.

            “I’m not Italian,” Anderson said, feeling the creeping sensation of the unknown clawing at the back of his brain. There was so much about himself that he didn’t know; accepting fake facts was almost as hard as accepting unknown truths.

            “Oh, well you could have fooled me with your accent.” Joseph chuckled again, though he sounded a little awkward.

            “I spent over ten years living in Rome, so don’t fret over the mistake,” Anderson assured. “And I do drink. I just hadn’t thought about going into the city this weekend.” Not entirely a lie; he still hadn’t decided whether or not to do his laundry on the school grounds or not.

            “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I’d love to show you around the city.” He smiled and gave a small shrug. “’Show you’.” He made quotation marks with his fingers. “I only know what the city looks like in my memories, but I can at least show you to the places I typically haunt.”

            “Alright, I’ll let you know,” Anderson agreed, and watched the smaller man head towards the exit of the teacher’s lounge. Joseph was an interesting character, and Anderson couldn’t be entirely mad at himself for not wanting to keep the man at bay. He made Anderson feel more comfortable in his new surroundings—something that he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

\---

            “I might be going into the city tomorrow evening,” Anderson said simply as he gathered up his dirty laundry in a small wicker laundry basket when Alucard entered the quarters.

            “Oh?”

            Anderson could almost feel the vampire’s mocking and confused gaze on his back as he continued gathering up his laundry. “Another of the teachers invited me out for drinks. I figured it would give me an opportunity to do some digging outside of the school.”

            A chuckle made him pause and look over his shoulder. Alucard, in the guise of Adrian, had sat down on the arm of the sofa, legs crossed, and was shooting Anderson the most lecherous smile. “So…you’ve been asked out on a date?”

            “Wha—?” Anderson felt his stomach clench as he straightened up, laundry momentarily forgotten, and glared at the small vampire perched on the sofa. “What exactly are you implying, vampire?”

            “Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m implying, Anderson,” Alucard teased, his smile widening to expose shark like teeth as a crimson glow flickered behind his dark eyes.

            “You’re disgusting to think such things about Joseph,” Anderson snapped.

            “Oh, Joseph?” Alucard teased, tilting his head to the side. “Kinky.”

            It took all of Anderson’s strength not to lash out at the vampire, no matter how much he thought the monster deserved a good beating at that moment.

            “I always wondered what you Christians were thinking, naming your spawn after Biblical characters. John, Joseph, Mary, Martha—all just names until you claim to have named your child in honor of the Bible, then it brings a whole new meaning to the name.” Alucard cackled and fell backwards onto the sofa, his legs dangling over the armrest. “Oh, what must it be like, Anderson? To be a man of God and be hit on by a man of God?”

            “This is not a date!” Anderson snapped, crossing to the sofa and reaching down to grab the vampire by the front of the shirt. He yanked him upwards so that he hovered off of the sofa. Anderson could feel his temples throbbing, his teeth grinding together. “Joseph is a good man, Monster. We talk, he has a good heart, and he merely wants to be friends,” Anderson forced out, breathing heavily through his nose as the desire to break the vampire coursed through his veins, making his gut churn pleasantly. “You have a friend here too, vampire. Foolish as I think it is for that Ethan boy to be anywhere near you, he still considers you a friend.”

            “And do you think I would hesitate if he asked me to fuck him?” Alucard asked smoothly, not bothered at all by being held aloft over the sofa by the larger man.

            Anderson felt his muscles tense and his blood run cold. He stared at the thin, youthful figure beneath him, hanging limply in his grasp without a care in the world, neither bothered nor worried for his own safety, regardless of if Anderson elected to hurt him or not.

            “I would, Anderson. Don’t delude yourself into thinking that I wouldn’t. My master’s orders only prevent me from harming the innocents here, and my promise to you—” Here the vampire attempted to restrain a dark chuckle but did not succeed. “—I only promised that I wouldn’t go seeking to perverse those precious children you fret over so much. I never promised that I wouldn’t enjoy myself if offered.”

            “You’re…” Anderson’s voice quivered with barely contained rage as he gazed down at the youthful face before him, a face twisted into something vile, corrupted. “You really are a monster.”

            “I never claimed to be anything else,” Alucard replied quietly.

            Anderson released the vampire, straightened up, and gazed down through his glasses at the figure who lay sprawled on the sofa cushions, looking no less bothered than a sunbathing feline on a windowsill.

            “I was wrong. That boy isn’t a fool—he’s blind.” Anderson turned his back on Alucard and gathered up his laundry basket. “He would have to be to have let such a vile, evil creature like yourself slither its way into his life. You’re like a vile thorn in his side, poisoning him by your mere presence.”

            “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Priest,” Alucard called lazily from the sofa as Anderson made his way towards the door, leaving silently and closing the door quietly behind him.

            He paused outside of his quarters, hand still on the door handle, laundry basket tucked under one arm. He was beginning to shake from the restraint he’d had to use before his anger got out of hand, but that wasn’t what kept his blood pressure from leveling out—not his anger, his disgust, none of it. It was the churning and burning in his gut that kept his heart pounding, his hands shaking, the heat rising up his neck and into his ears, the pleasurable churning of his loins at the expression on the vampire’s face as he held him above the sofa in one hand. He’d been perfectly relaxed, limp, and placid in his hand. There was never a moment during their conversation when the vampire was not in control—not really.

            Alucard might have been limited by his master’s command, by the magic that restrained him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in control. He was in control of everything that revolved around him, the students, the teachers—even Anderson. He knew exactly what he could get away with, who to charm, who to avoid, and what buttons to push to get a reaction. Anderson wouldn’t have been surprised if the vampire was attempting to push him into harming him again, just to see if he could.

            Any other person would have been the image of fearful submission. That body, that lie that the vampire wore like a piece of clothing, screamed of fragility—something that should have been submissive in Anderson’s hands, cowering beneath his strength and anger, but the vampire had been perfectly calm and comfortable. He wasn’t afraid of Anderson. He wasn’t afraid of what his words would make the other man do. He wasn’t afraid of the consequences, because there were no consequences. Or, at least, none that applied to him.

            Anderson felt himself breathing heavily through his nose and forced his hand to release the door handle. He moved down along the hall, heading towards the laundry room that was on the other side of the school grounds. He was hyper-aware of how fast his pulse was jumping in his wrists and neck, how hard his heart was beating against his ribs, and how the warmth churning in his gut was spreading throughout his stomach and thighs.

            He bit the inside of his cheek, tasting blood and forcing himself to focus on the flesh as it re-knit itself. He repeated this over and over again until the warmth began to cool and he knew there was no chance of becoming aroused. Even despite that, he couldn’t help the shame that began to creep over him as he arrived at the laundry room. At least it was blessedly empty.

            He quietly began sorting through his clothing.

\---

            “Don’t go into the city tomorrow.”

            “What? Are you trying to give me orders now?”

            “No, I just… Please, don’t go into the city tomorrow.”

            “I’ll go wherever I want. No one can stop me now. Not even you. Are you going to tattle on me? Who would believe you?”

            “I won’t say anything… I know that no one would believe me… But do you have to do this? You shouldn’t have to. Not after the last time…”

            “You fucked that last one up! Don’t think that that boy’s death paid for your fuck-ups!”

            “I—”

            “Look, I’m going into the city tomorrow. And, if I were you, I would try my damnedest to stay the fuck out of my way.”

\---

            Anderson tapped his toe impatiently while he waited for the dryer to be finished so that he could change the loads, his mind having wandered off long ago thanks to the droning of the dryer and thump-thumping of the washing machine. He’d thought about the vampire for awhile, fueled more by anger than arousal at the maddening monster, but then his thoughts had trailed away.

            His mind flittered from the orphanage back in Rome, to that construction worker back at the Hellsing manor, then to what he could make for himself for dinner.

            “I thought I might find you here,” Joseph said as he entered the washhouse.

            “Good evening, Joseph,” Anderson replied conversationally as the other man joined him at the back wall. The shorter man was dressed in his evening clothes—a green sweater and dark jeans. He looked considerably smaller out of his uniform.

            “I called by your quarters, but no one answered. I thought I’d swing by here and see if you were around.”

            “And, alas, you found me.”

            “Anderson, I wanted to apologize for earlier. I don’t want to pressure you. I know you’re new, and I guess I just lost my head.”

            “There’s nothing to apologize for,” Anderson assured, a bit surprised to find that the other man was still so bothered by their earlier conversation. He wondered if Joseph thought that Anderson thought that he’d been asking him out on a date. “The invitation just caught me off-guard, that’s all. Most people I meet don’t take me for great drinking company.”

            “Are you?”

            “Yes.” Anderson chuckled. “I am, actually.”

            “And no one’s asked before me? That seems…strange. Not even the occasional woman?” Joseph asked, raising a brow as he gazed unseeingly at the wall above the washing and drying machines.

            Anderson made a coughing noise. “Even if one did, I’d have to say no.”

            “Well…” Joseph shrugged. “You wouldn’t have to.”

            Anderson stared down at the shorter man, feeling slightly dazed at their current thread of conversation. The comfort level that the other man had with him took Anderson completely by surprise. No one had ever spoken so openly to him before, or felt so comfortable—no one but the children he’d worked with at the orphanage.

            “I can practically feeling you gawking at me, Anderson,” Joseph teased. “I’m not saying that you could sleep with a woman. I mean, you could, but you shouldn’t. I’m just saying, so long as boundaries are set, there’s nothing wrong with going out for drinks. It’s just drinks.”

            “I never thought about it that way. Women never showed much interest in me.”

            “I find that hard to believe. Even I’ve had a number of offers over the years,” Joseph said rolling his head back and leaning it against the wall. “And I know what I look like.” He chuckled.

            “You don’t know what I look like.”

            “Mmm, not the little details, no, but I can see the overall picture,” Joseph said, rolling his head to the side to face him. “I couldn’t tell you what color your eyes were, or if you had freckles, but I’m almost ninety-nine percent sure you have blond hair, or, at least, very light brown.”

            Anderson felt himself relax and chuckle. “Blond.”

            “Ah, see? I think you’d be worth asking out, and I’m blind.”

            “All of my previous jobs didn’t really put me in the path of many women,” Anderson said. “None that would have been interested in a collar like me.”

            “That’s good, I suppose. Keeps away temptation,” Joseph said with a nod. “Can I ask you when you took up the collar?”

            Anderson felt his pulse jump as all of the false information that Integra had given him swirled rapidly through his mind.

            “I didn’t take up the collar until I was nearly thirty.”

            “I was a bit younger than that,” Anderson said quietly.

            “Oh? I wish that I would have taken it up sooner. Not that my life wasn’t all fine and good before, but…I’ve never really been happier.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah. I had the opportunity to have a family of my own, you know. But things didn’t work out that way. I’m not sure I regret how things turned out. The idea of kids is nice, but…” He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess teaching kids, being a priest—that was just always my calling.”

            “And you don’t regret answering the call?”

            “No. I have many regrets, but not about that.”

            Anderson pondered the smaller man long and hard. Joseph was an interesting individual—strong, despite how much he talked about what made him weak. He was beginning to think that Joseph was the perfect character type to be a priest. He was nothing like Anderson—he was soft, gentle, and steady, whereas Anderson had always been brash, aggressive, and harsh. Now, standing side-by-side with Joseph and being able to make a comparison, Anderson was certain that God had never intended him to be a Priest. The Iscariot was just a band of brutal murdering extremists that prosecuted anyone who thought even slightly different than they did.

            Joseph… Joseph never would have gone along with that. He never would have made a good Iscariot. He was too kind, too pure.

            “What time should we meet up for drinks tomorrow evening?”

            Joseph blinked and turned to look up at him again, slightly cloudy eyes looking past his right ear.

            “Well…” There was a slight hesitation in the man’s voice, but then he quickly smiled. “How does six sound?”

            “Perfect.”

            “Great.” Joseph beamed at him. “I know this great little tavern—nice, but not too busy.”

            “Ah, a quiet place. That’ll be nice.”

            “Yes. I think it’ll be right up your alley.”

\---

            Ethan swung his legs nervously as he sat on the top bunk of his dorm room, comic book lying forgotten on his thigh. The boy’s usually curly black hair clung to his forehead and neck, still dripping from his recent shower.

            A soft knock on the door made him jump a little, pupils contracting as he focused on it before hopping down from the bunk and crossing the room to the door.

            “Adrian?”

            “Yes.”

            Ethan hurriedly opened the door wider to allow the other boy’s entrance. “Please, come in.” He stepped aside as Adrian walked into the small dorm room, then quickly closed the door behind him. “I’m sorry for all of the secrecy, but I’m glad you got my note.”

            “Ethan, what’s wrong? You look terrible,” Adrian commented, sitting on the edge of the windowsill. He frowned at the other boy, who hovered beside the bunk beds.

            Ethan bit at his lip distractedly, fingers twisting as his unseeing gaze flickered about the room.

            “Hey.”

            Ethan twitched at Adrian’s voice, green eyes focusing on the figure near the window.

            “Are you okay?”

            “I… I didn’t know who else to talk to. I mean, I couldn’t go to a teacher. I don’t want…” He ran nervous fingers through his sopping wet hair and exhaled sharply. “My roommate… I— He…”

            “Have you been bleeding?” Adrian asked, brows knitting together.

            He paused and blinked at him. “What?”

            Adrian sniffed pointedly. “It smells like blood in here.”

            “I… It was just… Um,” Ethan stammered. “It was an accident,” he managed quietly.

            Adrian stood up from the windowsill and moved closer to the other boy. “What was?”

            “My roommate found this,” Ethan said, pulling a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and holding it out. “It’s… It’s graphic,” he warned as Adrian unfolded the paper.

            Graphic was perhaps an understatement. It was a hurriedly printed out photograph, likely scanned over a white piece of paper. The photograph depicted the brutal dismemberment of a boy, with sloppy pornographic rambling written out on the white expanse of the paper.

            “What the fuck,” Adrian deadpanned, looking up at the other boy. He recognized the boy in the photograph; Alucard had seen that boy before. He was the boy that had been killed just before the most recent victim—the boy who had broken the killer’s M.O.

            Ethan rubbed his arms uncomfortably. “I… I don’t know, I don’t know. He said he found it when he came back from classes. He didn’t say where but, he… He freaked out.”

            “Obviously.”

            “He started panicking, saying that this meant our room was targeted… That, that _I’ve_ been targeted.” Ethan visibly shivered. “I tried to talk sense into him, but he completely flipped out and chucked his geography textbook at me. That’s probably the blood you smell…”

            Adrian crumpled up the piece of paper and shoved it into his back pocket, then put a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. He squeezed it slightly in attempt to keep him grounded. “You need to talk to one of the teachers.”

            “But what if—”

            “Look, even if this is a prank, it’s a fucked-up one. You need to talk to the teachers.”

            “What if they don’t do anything?”

            Adrian studied the other boy’s pale face thoughtfully before nodding to himself. The likelihood of the teachers actually being of any help was low. Even if this did end up being a prank, which he highly doubted.

            “You can stay in my dorm. I don’t have a roommate.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah. I mean, let’s say that this really isn’t a joke, that the killer is targeting you. He can’t kill you if he can’t find you.”

\---

            Anderson was working on folding his laundry and putting it away when he felt the shift in the room’s atmosphere, announcing the return of the vampire; he’d been missing when Anderson had returned.

            Anderson paused in his folding when a crumpled piece of paper was tossed onto the bed in front of him. “What’s this?”

            “Opportunity, perhaps,” Alucard said, still in the guise of Adrian. He stood at the edge of the bed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed across his chest.

            Anderson scooped up the piece of paper and unfolded it, looking it over as disgust settled onto his face. “Where did you get this?”

            “It was left in Ethan’s dorm room,” Alucard replied. “Apparently, his roommate found it, and basically crucified Ethan for fitting the description of the killer’s targets before leaving. I put Ethan up in my dorm room. I’ll be joining him in a little while.”

            “You’re going to sleep in there with him?” Anderson asked, frowning at the vampire as he tossed the photograph aside.

            He sighed rolling his eyes at the taller man. “Anderson, don’t you have more important things to worry about? For all we know, this was just a sick prank, though I highly doubt that. I doubt any of these kids would have been able to get their hands on a photo like that.”

            “Considering how hushed up everything has been, I doubt it,” Anderson agreed. “But I don’t like the idea of you being alone with that boy.”

            “It will only be for a little while. Once he’s asleep, I plan on staking out his dorm room. Might as well keep an eye out, just in case.”

            “I’ll go with you.”

            “No.” Alucard pushed off of the wall. “I’ll go alone. We don’t know if the killer will actually show up, and I’ll have an easier time staying out of sight without having to worry about you.”

            “So you just want me to sit here on my ass, twiddling my thumbs while a potential child killer and possibly rapist prowls the school? Do you think he’ll just leave because his intended target isn’t there? There are dozens of other boys who would fit this fucker’s M.O.”

            “I know that. What you do is up to you. Patrol, for all that I care, just stay away from Ethan’s dorm. I don’t want the killer thinking that anything is amiss.”

            Anderson huffed as he looked down at his clothes, only half of them folded and ready to be put away, the other half remaining in a crumpled lump. He glanced at the disgusting photograph he’d tossed on the floor, the writing churning his stomach.

            “Was there ever any news of the killer leaving notes or pictures? Warnings for his potential victims?” he asked.

            “Not that I’m aware of, which is why I won’t dismiss the prank idea. Ethan isn’t exactly a popular kid; he’s awkward and shy, and not being originally from Scotland adds a bit of racial tension to his life. I wouldn’t really be surprised if someone was fucking with him just to watch him squirm.”

            “Disgusting.”

            “Perhaps.” Alucard turned and headed towards the door. “Just keep your ears open, Anderson, just in case.”

            Anderson nodded, and watched as the small form of the disguised vampire left his quarters. Then he turned his attention back to his laundry, and felt the tension beginning to creep up his spine and settle between his shoulder blades—not an unfamiliar feeling.

            He’d always get tense before potential confrontation, though he felt that this tension was slightly different. He wasn’t eager for this potential battle. He didn’t want to face the murderer—whoever or whatever it was—, but he also didn’t want any more of the students getting hurt or killed. It puzzled him, the odd struggle he felt inside of himself, and he wondered if it had anything to do with Alucard. He couldn’t imagine how, but he had a feeling it was the vampire’s fault nonetheless.

            “Bastard.” He sighed, tossing a shirt aside and turning away from his laundry, hands on his hips. He wanted to get his hands on the murdering slime that had killed so many of the students—cut them down before they’d even begun to live. He wanted to tear the bastard limb from limb. Screw Integra’s orders for Alucard to take down the killer if it were a vampire. Vampire or not, that fucker was going to pay for what he’d done.

\---

            “Do you think we’ll be safe here?”

            The dorm room was dark, save for a thin sliver of moonlight that filtered in through a crack in the drapes. Alucard’s dorm was slightly larger than Ethan’s, and had two twin beds on opposite sides of the room rather than a bunkbed. Ethan was curled up under the covers in one bed, Alucard in the guise of Adrian in the other.

            “Yeah,” Adrian answered confidently, arms crossed under his head as he gazed up at the ceiling. He could see it as clearly as though it were day. He was wide awake, senses strained as much as the seals would permit. He was eager to learn who was behind these killings, whether man or monster.

            Alucard blinked as the other boy stepped up to the side of his bed, lifting the blanket and climbing onto the mattress beside him. Alucard scooted himself as close to the wall as he could, their thin frames pressed together in the small twin bed. He was a bit taken aback by the other boy’s forwardness, but wasn’t truly bothered by it either.

            “Adrian… If I die…will you do something for me?”

            “You’re not going to die.” It wasn’t a promise, it wasn’t even a statement. It was merely the empty words that Alucard knew he was meant to speak, that were meant to be spoken in situations such as these—empty words of comfort that really didn’t mean anything at all.

            “But if I do… Will you tell my parents that I was happy here?” Ethan asked quietly. “I don’t want them to regret sending me here… I…I really do like it here.”

            “Sure.”

            “Thanks.” Ethan smothered a yawn and the settled down more comfortably. “You’re a good friend, Adrian,” he mumbled, his breath warm against Alucard’s shoulder.


End file.
